


Adding to His Pain

by orphan_account



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Ishbal | Ishval, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, OC Villains, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Parental Roy, Parental Roy Mustang, Pre-Liore, Torture, but it's just a brief attempt and nothing explicit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-05-05 11:57:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5374442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In retrospect, it would have been so much better if Ed had simply been his usual obnoxious and recalcitrant self just then."</p><p>After a long and tiresome evening of paperwork, Roy offers his youngest subordinate a ride home. All seems well, until they are captured by a man neither recognizes. Who is this person, and why does he claim to know Roy? Ed is thirteen in this. Plenty of Hurt!Ed and Parental!Roy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Rain

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a FMA fanfic, and a gruesome one at that. I have been addicted to parental Roy fanfiction from the moment I first read one, and wanted to try something similar.
> 
> Warning: The later chapters will include scenes of graphic nature, namely torture. There is also some strong language. If this isn't your thing, there are plenty of fics in the sea. I don't wish to offend anyone with my writing.

It was a rare occasion for Colonel Roy Mustang to have a moment alone in his office. Not that he particularly desired to spend too much time alone in the horrid paperwork inferno that was also known as his room, but it was a change no less. On most days, Roy was surrounded by his subordinates and the endless piles of paperwork on his desk, not to mention the pair of fierce, hazel eyes that normally followed his every movement.

Roy let out an exasperated sigh, mentally cursing a certain shrimp to the lowest levels of hell. His desk was piled with stack after stack of repair requests, unsigned apology letters and payment orders, all thanks to the destruction the insufferable thirteen year old held within his tiny little frame.

He chuckled thinking about how furious the kid would be should he ever learn what adjectives Roy had just used to describe him. But his momentary jubilance vanished as fast as it had appeared, when he remembered the difference that still remained between the unfinished and finished piles of documents. Honestly, Roy was unsure whether he should have been impressed or annoyed by the trail of devastation a mere thirteen year old had left behind him. Collapsed warehouses, roads cracked with alchemy, a demolished museum… The list was seemingly endless, and Roy settled on annoyance.

Fullmetal had been with the military for a little over a year, and while the brat was an absolute pain, he had also accomplished more in his short time of service than many soldiers did in a lifetime. Major Elric had made ground-breaking discoveries in alchemy, apprehended numerous criminals and, most importantly, he had earned the citizens' respect and admiration. A hero of the people, they dubbed him.

It would take all night to get things to a bearable level, and Roy fought the urge to find a large rug and sweep all of the offending documents under it. Dammit, it was his pre-designated drinking day, but now the bottle of whiskey he had set aside for this Friday would have to remain unopened. At least until he would get home, of course.

Mustang's brow furrowed as he stole a quick glance at the clock. It was well past midnight already, and his efforts were yet to make a dent to the insurmountable beast of paper work. Roy offhandedly wondered if killing a teenager would be a deal-breaker for potential Führer candidates. Probably was.

Roy was interrupted from his hard work – _cough cough_ … procrastination… _cough cough_ \- as the very soldier he had just mentally slandered kicked his door open. Thankfully Ed had used his flesh leg, seeing as Roy rather liked his doors to remain on their hinges. He kept his eyes glued to the papers in front of him, actively ignoring the reason to his current sobriety.

Roy could hear the kid breath hard, like he'd just ran for kilometres on end or something. Come to think of it, he realized that Fullmetal probably _had_ run, if he'd been on the night train which had arrived a little under an hour ago. He attempted to keep his face blank, but when Roy looked up to Ed he couldn't help a grimace at the sight of his youngest subordinate's state.

Fullmetal looked like he might fall asleep on his feet any given moment; his eyes were half-lidded and his posture drooping. Intense storms had been plaguing East City recently, and the kid was waterlogged to an extent that Roy was pretty sure the office would flood soon if the dripping kid would stay there much longer.

So, not only did the kid make Roy work overtime to clear his messes, but now he had to play babysitter too? Oh goody.

"Fullmetal, what are you doing here at this hour? Isn't it past your bedtime?" Roy asked exasperatedly, his tone making his displeasement abundantly clear.

"Funny. I saw the lights were on so thought I'd bring you the report. Don't want to see your ugly face on the weekend." Ed said, but with what Roy could distinguish as masqued fatigue in his voice.

"Well, that makes two of us, shorty." He smirked, fully aware of the reaction it would earn him.

"Who are you calling so teeny tiny that they could use a water molecule for a swimming pool!" Ed yelled, and Roy was amused to see his face turn into a brilliantly enraged shade of pink.

"You should be thanking me for bringing you this shitty report at all, you jerk!"

"Yeah, sure Fullmetal. Now not only I have to deal with the factory you managed to blow up, once again if I may add, but now I have the pleasure or trying to translate this chicken scratch you call writing." Roy scoffed. _"Thank you. So, so much."_

"Whatever asshole, have fun with the paperwork. Besides, how was I supposed to know those idiots had explosives in there?" Fullmetal glowered.

"Had you bothered to read the informant report I gave you, you would have known that their leader had history as a pyromaniac." Roy said matter-of-factly, lowering his gaze back to his papers in attempt to seem busy.

"Yeah, ten years ago!" Fullmetal yelled, although his voice wavered ever so slightly. "You try evading trigger happy anarchists and reading some stuffy report at the same time, and _then_ tell me how to do things."

"And have you somehow gotten fatally allergic to reading on moving vehicles, or are you just incapable of reading the briefing on the train?" Roy mused condescendingly and rolled his eyes at the fuming teen.

"Screw you! I'm going home before I die from an overdose of egotistical morons."

"Do that Fullmetal, your whining is giving me a headache anyway." Roy snapped back and rubbed his temples melodramatically.

"Yeah, whatever Colonel Fucktard. I'm out of here." Ed replied, too tired to handle the continuous war of insults he and his supervisor usually wound up having. He was halfway out the door before he had even finished his declaration.

The Colonel smirked, happy to be finally left back to ignoring his work. But as he followed the thirteen year old's slowly receding back, Roy found himself feeling oddly concerned for the boy's health. It was still pouring rain outside, and Fullmetal was wearing only his trademark red alchemist's coat which might as well have been a paper towel against the storm's throes.

The last thing Roy needed was to deal with a sick subordinate.

"Fullmetal, wait. I'll give you a ride home." The words slipped out of his mouth before Roy had even acknowledged the thought.

Mustang watched the adolescent open his mouth in an argument and what would mostly likely have been a creative insult but, much to his surprise and relief, the kid's shoulders simply drooped in submission and he nodded wearily. Roy packed up his things, grateful to have an excuse to put the paperwork-marathon on hold for the time being, and the duo walked to the Colonel's vehicle in silence.

In retrospect, it would have been so much better if the boy had simply been his usual obnoxious and recalcitrant self just then.

* * *

There was close to no traffic on the streets of East City as Roy drove towards the military housing, which served as the temporary home of his drowsing subordinate whenever the Elrics chose to grace the town with their presence.

' _Sheesh, I hope the kid doesn't drool on the leather'_ , Roy thought as he glanced at the sleepy boy via the rear view mirror.

"Say, Fullmetal, where's your brother?" Roy asked, for even if he really wasn't all that interested in the brothers' personal affairs, he found the prospect of salivated seats even less alluring. Small talk it was, then.

The kid's amber eyes fluttered open languidly, their unfocused and weary gaze darting from corner to corner for a while before they widened in horror as Fullmetal grasped that he was, in fact, nodding off in his supervising officer's back seat. The kid sat up straight with impressive speed and an embarrassed pink hue colouring his cheeks.

"He stayed back in Resembool to help with the floods." The young alchemist mumbled groggily, rubbing his eyes as he spoke. Roy chuckled at the uncharacteristic, almost childlike softness in the boy's mannerism.

They were only minutes away from their destination when Roy noticed it. He cursed his tiredness and inattentiveness in a rather coarse choice of words, and based on the shuffling in the back seat, Fullmetal had also noticed the large van tailing them.

"Colonel, who are they?"

Roy scoffed. "If I knew don't you think I would tell you?"

The quiet, sardonic laughter that resounded from the back seat offered a pointed answer to Roy's question. He was just about to snap at the kid when the van accelerated without warning, colliding roughly with Roy's car. The vehicle swerved wildly, but Roy managed to keep it on the road.

Seeing that their tail was most definitely not just on a joyride, the Colonel stepped on it. They practically flew through the streets of East City at speeds that would have earned all non-military personnel a hefty fine; cutting corners and running red lights in attempt to lose their unwanted shadow.

But the van might have as well been glued to their bumper, for even when Roy drove fast enough to draw involuntary whimpers from both his car and his passenger, the pursuing vehicle wouldn't relent. The Flame Alchemist grumbled profanities under his breath. _'It's only a matter of time before we...'_

"Colonel, look out!"

' _... crash.'_

Before Colonel Roy Mustang could react to Fullmetal's panicked cry, a second car appeared from an alley, its engine revving loudly as the car's driver sped through the intersection and closed in on the pair of horrified alchemists.

There was no time nor room to avoid impact, and Roy saw his life flashing in his eyes; Fullmetal's shouts serving as a poor man's background music. Car crash, what a great way to spend a Friday.

' _Beats paperwork.'_

* * *

When Roy slowly regained consciousness, he ached all over. He groaned softly as he struggled to recall where he was and what the hell had happened for it to hurt this goddamn much. After a moment's probing the memories came flooding back; of Ed barging into his office, drenched and freezing and him gallantly offering the poor kid a ride. And then… nothing. Roy grimaced in frustration and pain.

He didn't dare to open his eyes. Roy could feel that the upper half of his face was caked with what must have been blood and, consequently, all efforts to part his eyelids resulted in searing pain. It was getting exceedingly difficult to breathe and, much to his chagrin, Roy could feel panic grow inside him.

What had happened to Ed, was he okay? If so, why couldn't he hear the kid's annoying voice barking at him about his poor old-man reflexes, or whatever insult he could come up with. Why wasn't he helping? Surely he would.

Unless Roy was already beyond help.

Was he? Because if this was heaven, it had been terribly over-advertised; constant pain and pressure did not match Roy's idea of eternal bliss at all, not that he believed in god in the first place. And where were all the ladies in miniskirts? Surely that was a minimum requirement for heaven.

Suddenly there was an earthquake, or at least something of the same magnitude rattling Roy. The force and momentum made him bang his head against the steering wheel and Roy's attempt at cursing his fate came out as a pitiful whimper.

Oh right, the steering wheel. _Car_.

The memory of the crash came rushing back to Roy, who clenched his eyes shut even further until he was pretty sure the lids were permanently glued together. He could hear someone yelling, but he couldn't tell what was being said, or by whom. Another earthquake shook him to the core and Roy was convinced his head had been split in half by the impact. He groaned, hoping for darkness to claim him again so that he could have a moment's peace from the agony coursing through him.

He panted arduously, every breath requiring more effort than the last, but after what felt like an eternity of torturous inhale-exhales, he could make out Ed's distressed voice. "Colonel! Colonel! Get up, we've got to get out of here!"

Had Roy been able to, he would have given the brat a little lesson on why he shouldn't just go around yelling into injured people's ears. Things to do, things to do...

"C'mon Colonel Bastard, don't tell me that little bump was enough to take you out?"

Fullmetal was shaking him by his shoulders, having indubitably created the ever-so-pleasant earthquakes in the process. It was obvious the kid was doing his best to sound pissed off, but it didn't take a genius to pick up on the nervous undertone to his words. Roy lifted his head with great effort in order to face his subordinate. Ed seemed concerned but unharmed, standing in front of him with only a few cuts and nasty looking bruises on him.

"Fullmetal..? What happened?" He managed to croak out. The headache was growing stronger than ever and he knew he was soon to pass out.

"Some cowards rammed us of the road. Can you move?" Ed replied apprehensively. Roy could only shake his head in disbelief; there was no way in hell he could move when he was having a hard time just moving his eyes without losing the slipping grip he still had on consciousness.

"Yeah, I figured. You managed to hit your head beautifully," Fullmetal sneered, but there was no real scorn in his voice. "Wait here, I'll go teach these assholes a little something about alchemy." He growled and cracked his knuckles in anger before taking off.

Roy could do nothing but watch the blonde leave with a huff, and he felt a pang of fear in his heart. He couldn't quite place who he was afraid for, himself or the young alchemist.

There was a slight limp in Fullmetal's otherwise confident stride, leading Roy to the conclusion that the brat _was_ injured after all, but still heading to face off with the blurry figures in the edge of Roy's vision. Their attackers.

' _Having to be saved by a kid.'_ Roy thought before he could no longer hold on to consciousness. ' _That shrimp will never let this go.'_

**End of chapter 1**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please leave a comment if you want to.  
> I don't own FMA, betaed by Lea.


	2. The Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None in particular, Ed's colourful wordings and threat of violence.

He hardly even noticed the transition at first; the change from unconsciousness and awareness happened so subtly and discreetly that it took him what felt like eons to realize it. It was comparable to waking up from a deep, satisfying slumber - his mind was groggy with a pleasant haze and for a moment, Roy thought about going back to sleep.

Just as he was about to let sleep claim him once more, his limbs decided to regain sensation and all hopes of rest were shattered. Roy fought the urge to whimper as waves of stinging pain washed over him and brought back memories of the car crash as an unwanted souvenir.

Roy quivered violently from the mere memories of the intense anguish, and consequently noticed that his arms and legs were bound with what he could only assume to be zip-ties.

_'Another pleasant turn of events, huh...'_

To his surprise, he could no longer feel the blood on his face and his injuries had been bandaged, leaving him practically coated in gauze. Only, his coat had been confiscated along with his ignition gloves; the realization of which earned another set of choice words from the Colonel.

He fought to stay still and keep his eyes shut despite his injuries. The pain was slowly subsiding and thus Roy was able to focus all of his remaining strength on his ears. There was no way of telling who had attacked them and where they were, and for all Roy knew there could be a gunman waiting to shoot him at the first sign of awareness, so he listened.

Roy could hear the sound of dripping water and a metallic screeching in the distance. A factory, or the sewers maybe? No, the room reeked of something sulfuric and stale, but there was not enough moistness in the air. So a house then? Perhaps, but it was too cold to be insulated and therefore most likely wasn't in the city.

The space he was in was otherwise eerily quiet, and Roy began to feel nervous.

He still hadn't heard Ed's voice and the Colonel doubted the kid would shut up in a situation like this, knowing what a trouble-prone hothead Fullmetal was. He didn't want to think of the implications of his silence, but the probabilities and possibilities, the what-ifs and should haves kept plaguing him persistently, until Roy couldn't help himself and cracked his eyes open with trepidation.

His eyes blurred from the dry air as they adjusted into the darkness. When he could _-finally-_ see after an eternity of all-consuming darkness, incomprehensible curses left Roy's lips.

They were trapped in what could have been a small cave or a large room; huge, windowless stone walls enclosing the pair and rendering all hopes of escape a fool's errand. Fullmetal was seated opposite to Roy, his legs chained to a metal chair and his wrists bound to separate sides of it, making it impossible for the kid to clap and transmute himself free. At least they hadn't taken his automail.

Fullmetal had been stripped of his trademark crimson coat and jacket as well, leaving the teen defenseless against the cold. Roy noted with concern that Ed was already shivering from the chill, and made a subconscious move to go wake the kid up before he was stopped by the restraints.

Ed looked more or less like he did back at the car, but there was the possibility that the kid had managed to injure himself in places that were still hidden by his remaining clothing. His chin was glued to his chest and overall the teen looked boneless, like he would have slumped off the chair without the restraints. It wasn't the kind of rest Roy had had in mind for the exhausted boy, but he was glad nonetheless that Ed could finally get some much needed sleep.

What had happened? His last memory before blacking out had been of the young Major fighting against their aggressors and, based on the fact that Roy had woken up in chains rather than hospital clothes, Fullmetal had lost.

It was worrisome to say the least that the attackers had been able to take Fullmetal down. No matter their endless teasing, Roy was well aware of the boy's fighting prowess and alchemic skills. Ed was a difficult opponent to face despite his age and physique, and the fact that their captors had defeated him troubled Roy greatly.

He was just about to speculate further on the matter when Ed started showing signs of waking up. The boy groaned softly before his eyes slammed open and he thrashed frantically in a futile attempt to break his bounds. Roy strained his hearing, hoping that no one would hear Ed's panicked grunts.

"Calm down, Fullmetal." He said in a commanding tone.

Ed gasped for air greedily, as if he had just woken from a nightmare. Or more accurately, like he had just woke _into_ one, Roy thought bitterly. "Honestly shrimp, are you trying to set the record for amount of times kidnapped per week or something?" He sighed in exasperation.

"Shut up, I don't see you doing any better." Ed growled drowsily. In truth, the blond was equally bemused by the way all of these lowlife kidnap-enthusiasts seemed to always find and target him.

Ed yawned softly and looked at Roy, who noted that the kid's amber eyes were almost overtaken by his pupils. Dilation like that could only indicate a severe concussion or drugs, and neither option sounded appealing to Roy.

"Yeah, well maybe if you hadn't fucked up the rescue part." Roy said, but the words sounded false and hollow to him as they fell off his lips, tainted with worry and underlying anger. "What happened?"

Fullmetal glared at Roy blearily.

"I'm not sure."

* * *

_-Flashback-_

_If Ed had been given a choice, he would not have turned his back on the Colonel in his current state. The man had taken the brunt of the impact, and whereas he was left with mere cuts and bruises, Mustang was far worse for wear._

_The deep cut in the Colonel's temple was cause enough for concern in its own right, but there was also his obviously broken left leg and the small shard of metal in his shoulder to consider. Ed was no doctor, but he could tell the other wouldn't survive for long without proper treatment._

_With that in mind, a determined scowl set on the Fullmetal Alchemist's features._

" _Do you have any idea who you're messing with?" He yelled out in anger, transmuting his automail blade in a matter of seconds. "You're going to regret this!"_

_Ed was faced with two men who would never have earned a second glance from him in normal circumstances. But now these men, who Ed wouldn't normally have perceived to pose any threat to him whatsoever, were making shivers run down his spine._

_Perhaps it was the way the other, a lean man with white hair, eyed him like a cow to be led for slaughter with something akin to pity in his otherwise cold eyes. Or the way his companion licked his lips at the sight of him, his portly figure practically shivering with…_ anticipation _? Not that their looks or mannerisms mattered, the malicious intent that all but oozed from the men was unnerving enough._

_And Ed wasn't planning on enjoying the duo's company for too long, either._

" _It's a shame…"The white-haired man started, his voice smooth as honey. "Such bad luck."_

_But Ed paid no mind to the man's musings and raised his fists in a defensive position before casting one more glance back to the Colonel's direction. He couldn't afford the luxury of hesitation, not now, so he charged at the two men with a battle cry, expecting the fight to be brief._

_The first man was easy enough to knock down, an automail leg to the stomach and that was that. The other, larger man was more resilient; his robust features cushioned Ed's attacks and made it more difficult for the teen to strike vital areas._

_Ed dodged a knife his opponent was wielding and aimed an automail elbow to the larger man's neck, using his superior speed and agility to his advantage. Thankfully, the attack connected and forced the man to fall on his knees._

_The blonde smirked victoriously before remembering the bleeding man still trapped in the car. He turned to leave in search for a phone booth when the seemingly unconscious man grabbed his flesh leg._ _Ed could feel a needle pierce his skin and then everything faded to black._

_-Flashback end-_

* * *

Roy listened to Fullmetal's tale with interest. The fact that the youth had in fact been drugged was alarming to say the least, and brought along a whole new set of worries with it. He offhandedly wondered if Ed's young kidneys and liver would be able to filter the contents of the injection, and whether they were dealing with drugs or a simple sedative.

Their attackers were unlikely to take Fullmetal's age into account, after all, and the thought made Roy uncomfortable.

Discarding the matter to the deal-with-later bin, Roy tried to think of anyone matching the description of their attackers, but came up empty. In any case, the priority right now was not who took them, but how they could escape. "Alright, I need some time to make a plan and then I say we try to get out of here. Are you injured, Fullmetal?"

Roy watched as Ed slowly moved each part of his body, testing their strength. "Well, despite the fact I'm in an enclosed space with you, I'm okay. Think I may have a bruised rib or two."

Roy arched an eyebrow in a question and earned a small groan from his subordinate. "Fine, they might be cracked."

Another scrutinizing glare of onyx eyes. Ed admitted defeat.

"And maybe a twisted ankle." He muttered, "But it's you we need to worry about."

The answer calmed Roy a bit. Fullmetal was injured, as was to be expected, but he would still able to run for help if needed. His face twisted in a reflexive scowl as his own health was questioned, but he had nothing to counter the remark with.

"True, I don't think I'm fit for a sprint right now." He said dejectedly. "Now all we can do is wait, really. I need time to assess the situation."

They fell back into silence, both just glad they were not alone. Roy watched Ed shudder, either in fear or cold, and felt an unfamiliar need to protect the boy from harm. Even if Ed didn't want to admit it, he was still just a child, not to mention one that Roy had personally dragged into the dangers of military life... ' _Shut up Roy. You can't afford to think like that. You need to distance yourself, or those feelings might get in the way of rational thought and get you both killed. You know that, so get a grip.'_

No matter how loud his logical side attempted to appeal to him, Roy's mouth operated on its own accord. "Listen, Fullmetal. I'm going to get us out of here, and when we make the move I need you level headed, so calm down."

Ed's whole frame tensed, and Roy prepared himself for the onslaught of insults that he thought was sure to come. But after a moment, the Major's musculature relaxed and the boy gave a curt nod in response. ' _Is he following an order? That's a first.'_

"Good. We'll be out of here in no time."

Roy was forced to remind himself that the man in captivity with him was a soldier too, and Major Edward Elric was hardly defenseless.

And yet, the Colonel felt responsible for all his subordinates, making a point not to view them as expendable pawns in a bigger game, but as people. He took pride in his leadership along with the fact that the unconditional loyalty his men had for him could only be born out of mutual respect.

But that level of emotional involvement made the situation just twice as hard for the Colonel, as he felt an almost physical need to get Ed out of this mess unharmed. He knew it was also something that could easily be used against him, but Roy had the higher rank and therefore held responsibility for his subordinates.

The dawning threat of that prospect was partly why Roy refrained himself to using only Ed's appointed military name -or the occasional slur- when he was addressing the boy. It made him seem more like a soldier and less like a child, which made the dangerous missions he sent the teen on to easier to handle.

Roy was too lost in his thoughts to notice a door open with a metallic clang in the distance, only the clenching of Fullmetal's fists and the approaching footsteps alerting him of the new arrival.

"Oh, up already are we?"

Fluorescent lights flickered to life above them and Roy was momentarily blinded by their intensity. After the darkness had made way to the light, Roy saw a man who fit Ed's description of the white-haired assailant approach the two captured alchemists with a cocky smirk on his face and a large leather satchel in his arms.

' _Perfect for hiding one's tools before a nice evening torture session, for instance…'_ Roy mused darkly.

"I truly had hopes that we would meet under different circumstances, Major Elric, but it seems lady luck just isn't a friend of yours." The man said almost sympathetically, his eyes flashing with pity and sadness that failed to convince Roy of their authenticity.

"Alas, I cannot allow you any lenience despite your age, not when I have come this far. You are a man of logic, so surely you understand," The man continued with the same seemingly friendly tone. Roy didn't appreciate the false sentiment.

"Cut the crap. Who are you?" He demanded to know.

The man closed the distance between himself and his captive in a matter of seconds and backhanded Roy forcefully, his head following the movement and snapping violently to the side.

"I do believe no one has given you the permission to talk, _Colonel._ " The man replied dangerously and his eyes flashed with cold hatred as he glared at Roy.

"What the hell is your problem?!" Ed shouted out. "Let us go!"

"Hush now, kid, the grown-ups are talking." The man sneered without a hint of his previous kindness. Roy rolled his eyes. Was this person trying to make Fullmetal beat him to a pulp? Because dismissing him like that would be the way to do it.

"I'm not a kid you damn lunatic!" The thirteen year old snarled, "What the hell do you want from us?"

"Ah, excellent question Major. Or may I call you Edward?" The man said with mocked enthrallment. "Scratch that, I shall call you Puppy, like the good little mutt of the military that you are."

If Ed hadn't been angry before, he was now. The prideful alchemist was downright fuming as he processed his new unwanted nickname and also debated over the most painful way to get retribution for the demeaning label.

But the man was either completely oblivious to the teen's fury, or he simply didn't deem Ed threatening enough for he paid the young alchemist no mind. He approached Roy once more, and the Colonel braced himself for another punch. But the man simply grasped his face in his hands instead.

"You wanted to know who I am? I assume you do not recognize me, then. How disappointing."

It was rather challenging to speak as his chin was still in the man's crushing hold, but Roy managed. "Should I? I have never seen you in my life."

"Ah, but you have, _Colonel._ " The man hissed the title as if it burned his tongue, and let go of Roy's face in order to run his fingers through his silver hair.

"You see, the last time we met, _Colonel,_ was in Ishbal. We lived there, my family and I. It was a peaceful life in the suburbs until the military showed up."

Colour drained from Roy's face at the mention of the war. He had imagined the worst case scenario to be questioned by Xingese spies or something like that, but this… The man seemed to hold a personal grudge against Roy, which made him that much more volatile.

Hawkeye would better find them soon.

"My son worked for you, in the military. He volunteered in the infirmaries, helping your pawns get back to the battle. He was only fourteen, just a little older than dearest Puppy here." The man said, gesturing to Fullmetal who scowled but kept quiet.

"He wanted to become a doctor, to help others. He would have been a great man…" The man's voice was cold and hateful as it trailed off and left the three in a tense silence.

The use of past tense made Roy exceedingly apprehensive, and his eyes darted to Fullmetal, who was also listening intently to the man's tale. Ed looked confused, which was something Roy wasn't used to associating with the boy wonder. Their captor huffed suddenly and the noise brought Roy's focus back to their captor.

"But that was until one of your _idiots_ decided he'd seen my only child selling military secrets to the ishbalans. Tell me, _Colonel_ , what kind of military secrets could a kid volunteering at an infirmary have access to?"

' _None.'_

Roy knew the answer but didn't dare to voice it, not when the man's dark eyes held so much pain and anger in them. Any false move would surely result in another violent outburst, or worse, a revelation as to what was in the satchel. Roy was positive that he never wanted to find out about its contents.

"I didn't even notice they were gone until it was too late. It was such a normal day, I never suspected a thing…" The man gave Roy a glance filled with so much loathing and unadulterated rage that it almost made Roy shudder. "I came home from work and guess what I found, _Colonel_? My house in cinders and my son taken to god knows where. And my wife… My dear wife…"

The pure grief that coloured the man's voice finished the sentence for him; leaving no need for guessing about his spouse's gory fate. Roy felt a pang of sympathy for the man's anguish, but he didn't dwell on it. War was a cruel business that came with casualties, there was no denying it. As sad as the man's sob story was, it didn't come as a shock to Roy, nor was it nowhere near to the worst tales he had heard about wartime horrors.

"My son was questioned by your thugs for days. I barely recognized him when he was returned to me, all charges cleared. Only there wasn't much to bring home after Mustang here had had his fun with him. He must have been in so much pain…"

The man wiped a stray tear from his cheek and walked to where Ed was seated. The blonde struggled furiously as the man circled behind him and set his palms on the teen's narrow shoulders, all the while smiling somberly at Roy.

"I don't know much about alchemy, but there's one thing I know you value above all. _Equivalent exchange,_ an eye for an eye. You need to be willing to pay a price in order to take away something from others, right?" He said, squeezing Ed's shoulders tightly in a fatherly manner. Unsurprisingly, Fullmetal cursed the man to the ends of the earth with rather colorful wordings.

The man merely chuckled at his captive's mannerism and cast a dark look at Roy.

"I do believe your payment is long overdue, _Colonel."_

"Well, we didn't exactly bring our checkbooks you moron." Ed leered and winced as the man's hold on his shoulders reached painful levels.

"My son would be a grown man by now. He had hopes and dreams, just like little Edward here must have. Don't you, kid?"

Fullmetal settled with glaring daggers at the man, which was admittedly challenging considering the maniac was currently out of his field of vision. It wasn't too difficult to decipher the implications of the man's words but, for perhaps the first time in his life, Ed didn't want to be proved right.

"Please understand that I'm not an unreasonable man. I'm not going to hurt you unless uncle Roy here gives me a reason to, okay Puppy?" He spoke to Ed as if he was five years old, making the blonde mutter some crude slanders under his breath.

Fullmetal appeared outwardly unfazed by the man's words, but Roy knew better; his keen eyes picking up on the nervous twitch of the teen's flesh arm and the line of cold sweat that was already forming on his furrowed brow.

Roy clenched his eyes shut in order to keep up his own façade of bravery. This had taken so many turns to the worse that he was starting to fear that they would no longer find their way out unharmed. And, much to his horror, the man's menace was hinting more and more that any harm caused would not be to Roy himself, but to the teen seated opposite who had never set foot on the battlefield.

"The rules are simple. You answer one question and I let you both go unharmed, and then you can go your merry way and arrest me, whatever you wish." The man stated confidently, showing no signs of deceit. Roy would have almost believed his words, had it not been for the almost palpable blood lust surrounding the man.

"But if you refuse to answer, or hesitate, you'll be giving me _permission_ to try it the equivalent exchange way. And I doubt the young Major here would like that option too much."

If there was still any amount of colour left on Ed's face, it vanished as his mind processed the man's proposal.

He had been abducted plenty of times, sure, and lost his arm and leg only a little over two years ago. Pain was basically his friend by now, but only when it served a purpose; like to get stronger through automail surgery or focus his mind during battle.

And something like torture was mindless, there was no logic or reason to it. He'd have no control and no way to fight back, and that scared Ed more than he would ever be willing to admit.

"Do you accept my terms, C _olonel?"_

"You're not leaving me with much of a choice…" Roy muttered sourly. "Fullmetal, what do you think?"

Ed focused on keeping his voice calm and level as he replied.

"I think that you'd better be able to answer his damn question."

**End of chapter 2**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own this. Betaed by Lea.
> 
> Please drop a comment!


	3. The Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Onward we go, next up: A very hurt Ed. Sorry buddy.

Roy had been expecting Fullmetal to answer in his usual arrogant mannerism; halfway hoping for the hothead to curse their captor to hell and back and back again for good measure. Or that perhaps he would attempt to reason with the man, anything, even plead with him. In hindsight, he really should have known better.

He had been fearing the worst from the second that he had realized how the man was planning to exact his revenge on him, but the close to nonchalant tone in Ed's voice had washed away all his preparations like a tidal wave and left behind nothing but a horrible sense of foreboding.

He wanted to yell at Fullmetal; to force the brat to see the sheer absurdity in his behavior, even if he knew that it would make no difference. Shit. The kid seriously needed to learn to value his life someday.

Their captor cheered and clapped his hands like a three year old, overjoyed to see that his captives were willing to partake in his plans; conveniently overlooking the fact that their decision was _slightly_ influenced with the lack of options available.

Ed rolled his eyes at the man's immature jubilance. ' _Seriously, kidnappers these days…'_

"Oh, how great of you to play along like the obedient dogs you are" The man simpered at the two alchemists. "But dear me, where are my manners? I haven't even introduced myself now have I? How rude of me."

"That's what you think is rude, asshole? How about you release us and I'll show you rude…" Ed's voice echoed in the large space, fierce and defiant as ever.

"Feisty. Just like my son, how poetic. You may call me… Remy? Yeah, that will do for now."

"Why won't you tell us your real name?" Roy asked, his brain working on overdrive to analyze the seemingly hopeless situation. ' _Hawkeye won't know I'm gone until morning. That's at least six hours at this lunatic's mercy.'_

The man, Remy, looked incredulously at the Flame alchemist before a sinister smirk spread across his lips.

"You see, I'd only like to hear an apology, a sincere one." He chuckled ominously. "And this is where the problem arises."

The man let out a deep sigh and smiled. "How can I know it's truly heartfelt, you ask?"

"No. I really don't…" Roy heard Ed mumble from his chair. Fullmetal's childish grumbling made him snicker inwardly; leave it to the shrimp to completely dismiss the gravity of any situation, no matter how dire, all for the sake of pointless wisecracking.

"Do you know my son's name, _Colonel?"_

The man's cold words sent Roy's newfound exuberance to an early grave and left his mind abuzz with anxiety and fear. The question was utterly unreasonable, far exceeding any of his speculations -hopes, really- of simple inquiries about his wartime actions.

How the hell could he be expected to know the kid's name when he didn't even recognize his father?

Roy racked his muddled brain to remember anything about their captor, knowing all too well that if he wouldn't be able to meet the man's terms, Fullmetal would suffer the consequences. The prospect of which wasn't exactly helping his concentration, and made Roy grit his teeth together anxiously.

He stole a glance at the kid, who was still in the same position: fists clenched and jaw set. Ed looked tense but determined, and the lack of fear in his features put Roy's mind at ease, if only by a fraction.

' _I just need to buy some time. And Fullmetal can handle some punishment, if necessary.'_

"That's useless, you idiot! There's nothing you can do to me that'll make that bastard give a shit." Fullmetal yelled once again, trying to reason with the man who was clearly beyond logic. The words made Roy grimace; was Ed just trying to distract the man? Or was that truly what Fullmetal thought of him, that he didn't care?

Sure, their relationship so far had been built on the premise of insult-per-sentence-communication, and Roy was forced to admit that he hadn't really tried to get to know the boy. But, despite all that, behind all the slurs and slanders he had always thought of the kid as his… what, exactly?

A useful tool, a subordinate, a comrade? None of the labels seemed to fit the blonde, who seemed hell-bent on breaking all social constructs and norms anyway.

Remy stared at Ed blankly for a while, as if the words had been spoken in a foreign language, or like he hadn't bought a single syllable. He shook his head in disbelief.

The man moved with slow strides to the table on which he had set his satchel, and opened it melodramatically. He pulled out a long scalpel and tested its sharpness onto the leather; the tool glinted dangerously in the fluorescent lights and in the blink of an eye the thick material was cut with next to no pressure.

The unspoken threat of the action was loud and clear without a spoken word, and Roy felt cold sweat forming on his forehead as he failed to remember anything about a tortured boy in Ishbal.

' _What does that say about me? Torturing someone, killing them and then forgetting their name?'_ He thought bitterly, even though he knew that there was a good chance his unit had done the interrogations autonomously, like they often had.

"Well, if the _Colonel_ doesn't feel like answering, I think I'll just have to find something to preoccupy myself with in the meantime." Remy grinned sadistically.

"How about a game of mahjong or something then?" Ed scoffed. "Or is that too _normal_ an activity for a psycho like you?"

Remy laughed humorously at the remark. "You know, Puppy's spunk really brings back memories. Can you relate, _Colonel_? Can you? Do you still see all of the mutilated bodies in front of you, like I do, _every single miserable day_!" He screeched, his fist raised and poised to strike Roy once more.

Roy forced his face to remain blank as he braced himself for the hit that he thought he was bound to soon receive. But there was no pain nor impact, and Roy was surprised to see tears forming in the man's eyes. The man's sporadic mood swings made him extremely difficult to read, and this testament to his unstable mental state made Roy uneasy.

"The first thing I noticed when they brought my poor boy home were the wounds. I tried to count them all but there were _so_ _many_ …" The man sniffled softly before a grim, sadistic scowl settled on his features.

"I heard that automail surgery is quite painful. To have your flesh melded together with cold steel machinery, oh, I can only imagine." Remy sneered and walked over to Ed, who was looking wide-eyed at the weaponized tool in the man's grasp.

Remy made a couple of test-stabs at the air, eliciting an almost audible gulp out of the helpless young alchemist.

"But maybe I won't need to, if the Major here will demonstrate?"

Roy's heart clenched with worry and his fists with anger; the two emotions fighting over dominance in his mind. He wanted to yell at the lunatic, to tear his binds and burn the man until nothing but a pile of charred bones would remain. To show the man what he considered the _real_ horrors of warfare. But most of all, Roy wanted to rip that scalped out of the man's fingers before a single drop of Elric blood would be spilled.

Ed braced himself for the pain yet to come and closed his eyes tightly in anticipation. He barely registered the sting when the tool pierced the skin in his right shoulder; a bit too close for comfort to his automail port. He let out a relieved sigh; if this was the extent of the man's punishments, he would be able to handle it.

As soon as he had finished the thought, the scalpel was torn roughly out of his shoulder and jammed in again. The second stab was deeper, and the scalpel's tip grazed the automail port ever so slightly. This time there was no denying the pain.

Ed's breath hitched in his throat and his steel fingers left deep indentations in the metallic chair as the nerve-endings in his shoulder sent out distress signals all over his body in the form of agonizing pain. He could feel warm liquid trickle from the open wounds and focused on the sensation like a lifeline; his last barrier against the excruciating electric rampage in his shoulder port.

How he managed not to cry out was beyond Ed.

"Stop it! He's just a kid goddammit, he has nothing to do with this!" Roy yelled at Remy, earning an angry glare from Fullmetal for his efforts. ' _Just a kid?'_

Remy smirked at the fearsome alchemist's practically tangible distress and cast a knowing glance at Roy. His wry chuckle sounded twisted and scornful to the Colonel; as if the man was deliberately mocking him for his empathy.

"Kind of funny isn't it, I bet you didn't even blink an eye while this was happening to my boy!" The madman yelled and stabbed Ed again, this time leaving the scalpel deep in the boy's shoulder.

"Why won't you sing to us, Puppy?" He said softly, his tone mimicking concern in a painful contrast to the menace glinting in his cold eyes. No to mention to the way he began to slowly widen the small hole in Ed's flesh into a deep, gruesome cut.

Roy was dumbfounded, his fury having made way for disbelief and horror at the sight of Ed's pained grimace. He still wasn't fully prepared to accept that this was truly happening, an actual real life event rather than a nightmare. It would have been almost comical if it hadn't been so utterly macabre; the way life had found yet another way to shatter his soul.

Remy laughed maniacally, all hints of sanity -had there been any in the first place- replaced by sadistic malice. He tore the scalpel out of the boy's shoulder unceremoniously, not even flinching as the large tear practically gushed blood on his sleeve.

Ed was having trouble thinking clearly through the mind-consuming pain, and involuntary whimpers left his throat as the battle against the looming screams was rapidly becoming a losing one. It wasn't like he hadn't been stabbed before, to his shame it was far from it. But the jittering of the exposed nerves conjoined to his synthetic limbs made the usually bearable pain intensify tenfold; blurring the lines between tolerable and intolerable.

"Don't you blame Mustang? He's the one who got you in this mess in the first place…" Remy queried as he plunged the blade deep into his victim's thigh, aiming at the point where flesh met with metal. Ed forgot to inhale as he did his best to ignore the man's cold words and the electric nerve pain.

"He could end this right now, Puppy, but he has done no such thing. Why's that?"

Ed opened his mouth to voice a rather heated reply but was surprised to find that his vocal chords refused to co-operate, incessant on forming screams rather than words. He forced himself to stay silent and allowed his eyes to speak the words he was unable to.

Remy flinched slightly under the adolescent's ferocious stare, and the sight made Roy smirk. It wasn't everyday you'd see a tortured teenager scare the crap out of a full-grown, armed man, after all. He couldn't help but feel a tinge of pride in his heart seeing his youngest subordinate acting so defiantly and stalwartly, like a proper soldier should.

"You know that he's done this and worse to other children like you. He's a cold blooded _monster_." Remy sneered without missing a beat, his eyes accusing and despiteful as he glared at Roy. Another stab to Ed's vulnerable thigh made the boy twitch noticeably, his mouth open in a silent scream.

Roy wanted to yell, to deny the maniac's allegations and divert the blame on to someone else; namely the man holding them captive. But he couldn't, for he wasn't entirely sure that he deserved to focus on clearing his own name while the young teen was being…

While Ed was in hell.

But he knew he had to let Ed know that he didn't _want_ this, never wished for anything this horrid to happen to the boy who already had enough material for nightmares to last a lifetime.

Another stab, more blood spilt.

He opened his mouth to voice his regret and repulsion, but the apologies and pleads that he wanted the boy to hear refused to leave his lips. ' _It isn't right, not like this'_ , Roy realized. He couldn't bring himself to find absolution for himself while the other's entire existence was engulfed in agony.

A pained whimper echoed in the Colonel's ears, tormenting him far worse than any physical injury ever could.

Even if Ed would by some miracle hear his words, there was no guarantee that his mind would be able to process them. As much as it pained him, Roy decided to save his words for later, to a time when Fullmetal would be fit to receive and consider them; capable of choosing whether he could accept them or not.

' _I'm sorry. It should be me, I'm so sorry.'_

The blade dug deep into the bleeding and battered thigh once more, and this time Ed had no hope the stay quiet. His breathing hitched violently and soon enough a piercing scream escaped him. Remy chuckled triumphantly and patted the blonde's head like he was praising a dog; which was, Roy realized, exactly what the madman thought he was doing.

Blood flowed freely from the wounded boy's shoulder and thigh, slowly forming a small pool in his feet. Ed watched the crimson flow with morbid curiosity; idly wondering how much more blood he could lose before his body would go into hypovolemic shock. Cardiac arrest didn't sound appealing to him, either.

Meanwhile Mustang was doing his best to shut out the gruesome scene around him.

While the Colonel felt like he was abandoning his subordinate to face this _punishment_ alone, he was painfully aware that figuring out a way to escape held priority. Although, much to his frustration, even his most intricate schemes seemed unreliable and the prospect of their success miniscule at best.

Roy had never missed his stern second lieutenant more. There were simply too many variables and questions without answers to execute a fruitful escape, leaving all hopes of freedom and badly needed medical treatment to his employees; their friends.

He glanced up as he heard a particularly loud cry escape his charge, and all thoughts and speculations left him. It was hard to digest that Fullmetal's small physique could truly have been once filled with the blood that was now covering the boy; and even more difficult, not to mention _horrifying_ to think that Ed was still conscious despite it.

Roy's entire body twitched violently and the resulting fresh pang of pain reminded him of his own considerable injuries. But honestly, he couldn't have cared less about his own health if he tried, the desire to get Fullmetal off that forsaken chair and into a hospital bed having transformed to the likes of a craving; a need as vital to Roy as breathing.

Ed's hazed eyes met Roy's for a fleeting second, and even though the amber orbs were pained and feverish, there was no blame in them. It was a relief beyond imaginable to Roy to know that Ed wasn't blaming him, but rather the man wielding the weapons of his suffering.

It had been a nagging concern in the back of his mind and one he had been actively dismissing until then, and the knowledge that he was absolved in the kid's eyes lifted a weight off Roy's shoulders.

Ed could hardly see through the pain as dark spots invaded his vision. It was funny to him, how his limbs were starting to bear closer resemblance to Swiss cheese than actual human appendages. He knew he'd never be able to use his synthetic limbs in this state, but hey, Ed had never been cheese before and his blood loss-induced lightheadedness made the sight seem more silly than life-threatening to him.

' _Winry is going to fucking murder me if this bastard doesn't do it for her.'_ He thought cynically before his mind shut down, succumbing to the combined efforts of blood loss and pain.

Roy watched the blonde's unfocused amber eyes flutter closed and his body go limp. He was glad to see that the teen's torment was finally over, for now, and let out a breath of relief he hadn't realized he was holding. Remy continued to poke and prod at the unconscious alchemist for a moment, despite Roy's heated objections, until the man was convinced that there was no rousing the boy. He threw the scalpel to Ed's feet carelessly. "That went well, don't you think _Colonel._ " The man sneered at Roy.

"When my people come for us, I swear, I'll burn you to a crisp!" Roy threatened harshly, his eyes glinting with a promise of future pain, much worse than any punishment Ed had been subjected to. Remy shrunk slightly under the raven's hard eyes before cackling obnoxiously and making his leave.

"Don't you mean if they come, _Colonel_? Not when."

The man left, but his words lingered, and Roy couldn't help but wonder if there was some chance the man was right in his assumptions; correct in predicting that Riza wouldn't reach them. In time, if at all.

He didn't have the slightest clue about their whereabouts or the beginnings of a time frame to help pinpoint their possible distance from the crash site. To make matters worse, even if he had known the exact coordinates to their current personal hellhole it wouldn't be much help without means to communicate them. They were isolated from all help.

Normally, Roy wouldn't have even dreamed to doubt his team's competence. But then again, normal didn't include the sight of an injured, bleeding, dying _'…Don't think that Roy, they'll be here in time, he's going to be okay…'_ Edward Elric, or the sound of the boy's pained, weak breathing. It wasn't normal, wasn't right, and it should _never_ have happened in the first place.

If the man was attempting to taunt Roy by leaving the satchel and its contents within Roy's grasp, he was succeeding. Had his arms been free of their confinement, Roy could have easily grabbed a scalpel from the bag, drawn an array on the chair's metal surface and BAM; a nice explosive surprise for Remy's next appearance. But it just wasn't meant to be, the restraints were too strong and unyielding.

Denied of freedom, Roy was left alone with his thoughts.

He was angered and sad to be was cast aside like this, forced to simply pay witness to his subordinate's agony. The words or reassurance he had said to the boy only hours ago rang accusingly in his ears, highlighting his helplessness. Roy knew the madman was only tormenting Edward to get to him, and it was working terrifyingly well. Hell, objectively thinking Roy shouldn't be this affected by his subordinate's pain, nor feel so responsible for it. He barely even knew Fullmetal, so why was it so damn hard to see him in this state? Why had he been fighting an overwhelming urge to command their captor to turn the blade on him, even if he knew it would only serve to motivate the madman more?

Roy had been to Ishbal, he was battle-hardened and driven. In fact, he had seen far worse things done to innocent civilians back then, and more often than not even children were excluded from those terrors. But this somehow was different; the sight of Ed's battered and unmoving form cut deeper than any of the nameless children back in the war zone.

No, this kid had a name and a face that were not simply some part of a mission report.

The Colonel observed the rise and fall of his fellow captive's chest, and the pained look that still remained on Ed's unconscious face with concern. He continued to keep vigil watch over the boy's slumber, and to his surprise, Roy found that he could no longer see the infamous Fullmetal Alchemist, hero of the people.

He didn't see the annoying, quick-tempered, ridiculously brilliant and strong child prodigy.

He didn't, _couldn't_ , bring himself to see the human weapon.

In his place he saw the wheelchair-bound boy from Resembool, hurt and needing protection.

' _Why is this happening to him? If I could only remember the damn name…'_

* * *

**End of chapter 3**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that wasn't too graphic, I'm trying to focus more on their thoughts than the actual... you know... stabbing business.
> 
> I don't own FMA, as surprising as that must be. Betaed by Lea.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you have the time.


	4. The Dream

_She was running._

_The tormented cries and pleas invaded her mind from all sides, overwhelming her with a burning need to comply and help, but she paid them no attention altogether. She had no other option; there was something far more important to do, to protect._

_With that in mind, she ran, as fast as her feet carried her, but she could feel it would not be enough. Her muscles ached and cried for mercy, but she denied them of any respite._

_Just a bit further, and she would reach it. Just a bit further, and she would be able to stop it._

_She had to._

_The bodies were everywhere -burning, begging, tortured- but she forced herself to ignore them. She couldn't afford to. The smell of dead, putrid flesh filled her nostrils, so tangible and so potent that she could almost taste it._

_"Please! My only child, my baby!"_

_She ran, tears falling from her eyes in streams and her mouth open, gasping for breath. She wasn't fast enough._

_"They shot him! No! Please, help!"_

_'I'm sorry, I can't' she thought, the helplessness taking over her soul, her mind, her entire being. 'I'm sorry'._

_"You're from the military? Help us, I'm begging you!"_

_She wanted to, oh, how she did. It was all she desired really, after everything she had done; to cleanse, to cure and to protect instead of the endless destruction and suffering she had been a part of. But she couldn't, not yet._

_She reached her destination, but she was too late, faced with nothing but unseeing, glazed onyx eyes she could've sworn still held their once piercing gaze. She failed. Again._

_She fell on her knees, clutching onto the lifeless body in front of her and screaming bloody murder._

* * *

"NO!"

Riza Hawkeye woke up with a jolt, disheveled and drenched in cold sweat. For what felt like hours but was in actuality closer to five minutes, Riza simply sat in her bed, perfectly still, as she waited for the lines between nightmare and reality to gradually make themselves more and more clear and concrete to her.

It was odd, she thought, to dream about the terrors of Ishbal. Not because she wasn't used to reliving her time in the war zone at nights, or that she'd have thought the war unworthy material for nightmares, no, far from it. What intrigued her was the fact that her slumber had gone undisturbed for what must have been months, and she had been beginning to think that the nightmares were slowly becoming a burden of the past. _'Guess not.'_

She shrugged the remnants of the bad dream off her and stood. There was no way she was getting any sleep after seeing _that_ again, and a quick peek at the clock told her it was far too early to leave to headquarters; it was barely three o'clock in the morning, hours ahead of the socially acceptable time to clock in. Even if Hawkeye was known to practically reside at the Eastern Headquarters, showing up in the dead of night didn't seem appropriate to her.

Although, the mere mental image of Colonel Mustang drooling on the mountain of paperwork she had left to his care made Riza almost shudder. Those repair requests needed to be sent out as soon as possible, _yesterday_ would have been preferable, and the chronically lazy Colonel was well aware of the urgency of the matter. Riza had made sure of that. It had been the reason why they had decided _-perfectly unanimously-_ to work through the weekend to lighten the workload, if only by a smidgen.

The First Lieutenant sighed resignedly as she turned on the coffee maker, the soft sound of the caffeinated gold trickling to the pan soothed her mind and helped vanquish the demons that still haunted her thoughts. On some days she could practically feel that cloud of guilt hanging over her, and she knew the Colonel wasn't fairing much better on his part.

But it wasn't simply the memories of the past that were bothering her. No, there was something else, a small voice of warning buried under the lingering nightmare. Riza was willing to bet her last coffee bean on that whatever _it_ was, it had everything to do with the sudden recurrence of her nightmares.

She tried to prolong her regular morning routines for as long as possible, but it wasn't much use. After the third cup of coffee -and the third time she had washed the said cup- Riza admitted defeat. The time had been crawling, moving at torturously slow pace. She glared at her watch, convinced that it was stalling just to spite her.

She decided to walk to the office. It was still pouring rain, but she could handle it, _unlike some people_. Nothing that a trusty old umbrella wouldn't fix. It was just a tad over five in the morning, a bit early to show up at work, but the First Lieutenant had been known to do that sort of thing from time to time.

It wasn't like Riza felt obligated to be the first one in and last one out, but she wound up doing so anyway at regular intervals. She relished the knowledge that she was the first person at the ever-so-busy headquarters, having the peace and quiet to languidly go through the Colonel's itinerary and correcting his paperwork to make them at least remotely fileable.

On some days she would find the Colonel at the office before her, his raven locks set neatly in place and his uniform spotless. Despite his carefully polished exterior, Riza was always able to take note of the dark circles under Mustang's onyx eyes and the slight tremor to his handwriting, once more confirming her suspicions of their shared demons.

And no matter how much she hoped that her commander would've been spared from the terrors that haunted her sleep, those moments alone at the otherwise vacant office made up some of her best memories.

She was getting close to the Eastern Headquarters when she heard the sirens. An ambulance raced past her, followed closely by a dark car marked with the military insignia. Something had happened during the night and Riza felt obligated to some degree to find out what that was.

She followed the sirens to an intersection that, she realized, wasn't too far from the military housings. At least she could be sure that whatever had happened over the night wasn't caused by Edward Elric. The boy was still off fighting some anarchists as far as she knew, thus leaving East City out of his assumed impact radius. Even though she did miss the teen and his armored brother, Riza was glad to know she wouldn't have to bug the Colonel with incident reports just yet.

The men guarding the scene were acquainted with Riza and therefore allowed her to pass through easily enough. The matching looks of trepidation and worry on their faces made the First Lieutenant's steps hasten to a rather conspicuous pace, but she chalked the slight crack in her formalities up to fatigue and concern. The ominous feeling in the pit of her stomach had grown from a little sprout to a hungry monster, and Riza felt a strange tingling of familiarity as she closed in on the ambulance she had been trailing.

"What's all this?" She queried a man who was scribbling notes on a clipboard.

"A car crash. It's a military vehicle, so we're investigating." The man muttered without bothering to look up to the First Lieutenant.

Riza scowled unnoticeably. The man was only a Sergeant major, quite a few ranks below a First Lieutenant's. Had the man been in her unit, there would have been hell to pay for such disrespectful behavior. But he wasn't, and frankly there were more pressing matters at hand requiring her undivided attention.

_'A military vehicle?'_

She pushed through a small army of military policemen, and the sight of the crash site hit her like a ton of bricks. She recognized those custom leather seats and the unique dents and scratches in the paintwork, accumulated over numerous missions and speedy car chases. It was a car she had probably steered more than its owner.

The car belonged to Colonel Roy Mustang, and that new piece of data froze the very blood in Riza's veins.

"What happened?" She asked quietly from the group of military policemen. They looked at the distressed blonde with empathy.

"We just got here ourselves. A car swirled off the road during the wee hours, it seems. So far we have found no one, miss."

"First Lieutenant Hawkeye to you." Riza snapped, failing to keep the sharp edge of dread hidden from her tone. The man gave a quick salute.

"That's my commanding officer's vehicle." She explained, gesturing towards the wreckage hurriedly.

"Really? In that case, call our supervisor, First Lieutenant. He'll be able to tell you more."

Riza gave a resigned sigh and nodded at the men who resumed their rambunctious rambling. How could they brag and joke when the Colonel was in trouble? The fact that she had no way of knowing whether the Flame alchemist was in intensive care or simply somewhere nursing a nasty bruise with a bottle of whiskey made her anxious. Thank goodness there was a phone booth nearby.

The call connected to the switch and she stated her name, rank and identification code. The dial tone stretched on for ages and Riza was getting close to hanging up when a disinterested, nasally voice answered.

_"Mmh, yes?"_

"This is First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. I believe you are looking into the automobile accident that occurred tonight?" She blurted out, hoping that her anticipation and worry weren't too audible in her voice.

 _"Ahh, yes I think we are. We'll get around to it."_ The man chuckled.

"When?" Riza scoffed. "That vehicle belongs to Colonel Roy Mustang, did you know that?"

_"No, but I've been meaning to run the plates. That's good to know, I don't have to do that now. If there's nothing else…"_

Riza could hear bellowing laughter and someone singing off key in the background, and scowled in irritation and disapproval.

"Sir, are you in a bar at the moment, if you don't mind me asking?" She asked incredulously.

The man hang up on her, refusing to answer the question that then again pretty much answered itself. Riza gritted her teeth together in anger as she racked her brain for the best course of action.

These people responsible for investigating the Colonel's supposed disappearance were clearly not up for the task, and Riza wasn't willing to wait for who knows how long until the slackers would even consider lifting a finger to help Roy.

She needed someone, someone with authority and influence she and their team didn't have, not without the Colonel anyway. Someone like…

* * *

"Shh, sweetie, it's going to be okay." Maes Hughes whispered soothingly to his nearly two year old daughter, rocking her gently in his arms.

"We'll take you to see the nice people at the hospital and you'll feel all better, I promise." He comforted the frantic toddler, who was writhing in his arms in a feverish haze.

Elycia had come up with the fever in the middle of the night and, after hours of pained whimpers Gracia had insisted that their princess required medical attention. Maes, being to overprotective father he was, was all too quick to accept his wife's action plan.

Truth be told, he had been wanting to take little Elycia to see a doctor from the moment she had woken up in tears, but had just barely held his tongue. It had been enough to see his dear wife barely hold her worries at bay, and Hughes had reasoned -or talked himself into believing, _really_ \- that catching a cold at this breezy weather wasn't all that unusual and hardly dangerous.

Only now their little sweet pea felt all too hot to touch and her pained cries had diminished into exhausted sobs. It broke his heart to see the normally energetic princess so lethargic and drained, and more than once, Maes had to fight back his own tears at the sight of his precious daughter's agony. But he was well aware that Gracia was having a hard time putting up a brave front for their first born as it was, so Maes hung on to his poker face like a lifeline.

The phone rang in the living room, and Hughes felt tempted to simply smash the damned thing for interrupting their preparations. But when the ringing wouldn't cease, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, Hughes forfeited and handed their ill daughter to Gracia. She carried the toddler to their car with attentive, careful movements; acting like little Elycia was a porcelain doll, fit to break from the lightest touch.

As much as Maes didn't want to think it, it was more or less how he saw the child at that moment too. He supposed it was something all recent parents went through; worrying about their children and hovering over them to unnecessary lengths. _'Kids are tough'_ , he told himself, over and over and over again.

"Maes Hughes speaking. Who is this?" He answered, unable to keep his irritation from leaking into the words.

 _"Sir. It's Riza Hawkeye."_ A woman's voice started; one that Maes recognized immediately.

The Lieutenant colonel's brow furrowed; his best friend's right hand would never bother him at home without a valid, urgent reason. He gave a quick glance through the window to the car waiting for him, with his wife and daughter already seated inside and the engine running.

"Riza. Is everything alright?" He asked with unhidden concern, for both his family and his friend.

 _"No, it's… It's the Colonel, sir. I believe something has happened to him."_ Riza all but growled. _"And these people refuse to launch a proper search for him, nor do I have the authority to organize a search party myself."_

"I'd bet that he is simply out having a good time. You know how Roy can be." Maes tried to assure the lieutenant who, despite sounding calm and collected considering the circumstances, was undoubtedly frantic on the inside.

_"No, sir. A patrolman found his car, crashed into a tree. There's blood but no bodies."_

"I…" Maes sighed.

As much as he wanted to stay with his princess and make sure she would be alright, Gracia would keep her safe; he knew she would get better without him. And he also knew that the same couldn't be said about Roy with complete confidence. Maes grimaced and rubbed his forehead in seeming hesitation, while in truth he was already thinking about trains leaving to East City, worry for his best friend sealing his fate.

"I'm on my way."

* * *

Riza released a breath of relief that had been slowly building in her chest from the moment Hughes had answered the call. Not only was Hughes equipped with years of experience from working in investigations, he had the power and rank to organize a rescue party for their missing Colonel. Their friend from Central would know what to do and, most importantly, he _cared_.

She knew that if anybody would be able to find Roy, it would be his best friend. Hawkeye reached for the receiver again to phone Havoc, and eventually alert the rest of the team as well, when one of the military policemen approached her.

"Miss… Pardon me, First Lieutenant, ma'am." He stuttered, pointing to the scene behind him.

"There's something you might want to see, ma'am."

' _Sir would do just fine.'_ Riza thought sourly as she followed the man down the slope and toward the men still huddled around the crashed car. They made way for her, glancing at the new arrivals with wary eyes that made Riza swallow her growing anxiety.

She stepped closer to the car, and for a fraction of a second she was confused; unable to locate a piece of a puzzle she hadn't already discovered. One of the men directed her attention to something on the ground, and hazel eyes widened in horror as they were met by a burgundy alchemist's coat and a standard issue military jacket, both drenched in blood. On top of the clothes were two items glinting sinisterly in the moonlight. Two state alchemist's watches.

She identified the owners of the coats and stained timepieces in no time, the new piece of information making her shiver from reasons that had nothing to do with the brisk wind. Her breath hitched in her throat as her friends' potentially fatal predicament revealed itself to Riza in all its cruelty; the fear in the pit of her stomach growing to abysmal levels. Not only did she have a missing commanding officer to find and rescue but now…

Now she would have another call to make, and Riza wasn't looking forward to informing Alphonse Elric that his only remaining family had gone missing on _her_ watch.

But Riza swore to herself that she wouldn't rest until the both of them were back home, safe and sound.

**End of chapter 4**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please drop a comment if you want.
> 
> Don't own. Betaed by Lea


	5. The Useless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to write this chapter in small parts in order to not simply drop a random piano on them and kill them off. Things get a bit dark if you haven't guessed it by now, there's a scene with the scumbag I particularly want to throw into a lake of acid molesting Ed, so skip that if it would bother you. Nothing graphic, I left things up to your imaginations by the most part, but I don't know if that's better or worse.

' _Breathe in, breathe out. Inhale, exhale. You can do it.'_

Roy wasn't entirely sure whether he was chanting the words of encouragement to himself or to Fullmetal anymore. He wasn't really sure about anything at that moment. He might have been saying the words out loud, or simply thinking them; it had been so long and the silence had gotten so loud that Roy had trouble distinguishing the difference. In any case, the details hardly mattered.

Imprisoned, trapped, and unable to physically aid his subordinate in any way, the only things Roy had left to control were his own thoughts. The reassuring mantra had become a lifeline to him, creating a false sense of security amidst the worst case scenarios his mind seemed intent on producing.

Even if Remy had barged back into the room and held a gun to his head, Roy wouldn't have flinched. He hadn't just lost track of time, no, he had deliberately thrown all caution and self-preservation to the wind and resigned himself to the limbo of waiting and fear. Besides, he was far too immersed by the hypnotic rise and fall of Fullmetal's chest to concentrate on anything else. Ed rasped for air in his sleep with rapid, shallow wheezes, and over time Roy had grown convinced that if he'd lose focus and look away, Ed might stop breathing altogether.

How could he pay attention to something as meager as his own life while Fullmetal struggled to survive not two meters in front of him?

Roy was no mechanic, but even he could tell that the synthetic limbs were beyond repair, and Ed's physical body wasn't doing so great either. The kid still wore a look of agony and there was a sheen of cold sweat on his brow. But what was truly alarming was the amount of blood that covered the teen head to toe. Much to Roy's never-ending relief, the wounds had more or less closed without treatment, but the blood loss had still been significant and Ed was left ghostly pale.

To put things bluntly, the kid was an absolute mess.

It was torturous, as ironic as that sounded, to be stuck in that cursed room with his bleeding subordinate while his were hands quite literally bound from action. And it was beyond frustrating to Roy to be so utterly goddamn _helpless_.

His mind kept running in a vicious circle of doubt and blame. Was there something, _anything that_ he could have done to prevent this? Was Ed's torment a direct result of his own actions, or was the teen suffering merely to amuse a madman?

He wasn't sure which answer he liked more, or at all. On one hand, the idea that _he_ had caused this, had doomed a boy he was meant to shield and protect to this hell was inconceivable. The very thought made Roy desperate to curl into a small ball of self-hate and wallow until the end of times. Possibly drown himself in alcohol as well.

But the possibility that Ed was bleeding and in pain simply because some deranged lunatic had decided to use him in his bitter plans, to make the kid his _'puppy'_ was equally terrifying.

Oh, how Roy had begun to hate that word. _Puppy._

Before, in what felt like another lifetime to him, the word had been harmless and innocent; representing something Roy associated with child-like joy. But in a mere matter of hours the word had been tainted with Ed's blood, ripped of its joyousness and twisted into something vicious and demeaning. What a gruesome and yet accurate metaphor to describe their situation.

Roy wanted to cry out, to curse heaven and hell alike and vocalize his frustration and anger, but he knew better. He knew with utmost certainty that any sign of breaking would be the same as giving in to Remy, showing their captor that the _punishment_ he had elected was working and effective. There was no doubt in Roy's mind that any outburst of emotion would only serve to motivate the sadist further, and he refused to give the bastard the pleasure.

Furthermore, if he couldn't stay strong, how could he expect the thirteen year old child to do the same? How could he ever hope to face Alphonse or his team again? Hell, how could he face _himself_ if he'd fail to support the kid now?

' _Keep yourself together, Mustang. Don't give them the satisfaction of breaking you.'_

Roy was deep in thought, keen eyes riveted on the unconscious boy in front of him. At times Ed would grimace in his slumber and twitch uncomfortably, and his eyes never ceased to dart wildly behind closed lids. A nightmare, perhaps, or simply a regular dream? No matter the case, Roy wasn't inclined disturb Fullmetal's sleep after the trials his battered body had been subjected to.

A door slammed in the distance, snapping Roy out of his reverie. He was sure that it was their captor returning and prepared himself for a new round of witnessing Ed's screams.

It was all too soon.

To his surprise, the man that entered this time was a new face; a burly, robust man wearing a turtleneck and reeking of dried sweat that spoke of days' worth of missed showers. But the man could've had three heads and a trunk for all Roy cared. Was he there to help? Would they finally be rescued?

"Who are you?" Roy demanded to know, wary of the man despite his hopefulness. "My subordinate is in bad shape, can you help him?"

The man acknowledged the distraught Colonel with a nod and kneeled in front of Ed's unmoving form.

"Yep, the boss wanted me to check on our little guest. Can't have the kid die on us now, can we?"

Roy heard the title, but refused to comprehend it.' _Boss'_. Honestly, he should probably have realized that this _benevolent_ stranger couldn't possibly have just wandered to their cozy little torture corner with good intentions. It was just that a part of him, the small voice telling Roy that all was lost and made him want to tear his binds and scream his head off and…

Well, that part had been hopeful.

Oddly enough, the new arrival was as close as they had come to finding anything positive or baring even a furthest resemblance to a silver lining. It was far-fetched to say the least, but if this man truly intended to help Edward, Roy wouldn't even entertain the thought of antagonizing him.

As much as it irked him to admit it, they truly needed all help they could get.

The man smiled at the sight of Ed's blood-soaked form, and pulled a packet of napkins from his pocket. They were crumpled and stained at parts, far from sanitary, but the man started cleaning the boy's injuries with them regardless.

"Why are you doing this?" Roy asked sharply.

"Didn't boss tell ya?" The man asked bemusedly. "You killed his kid."

"I wouldn't state that as a fact, but yes, he was rather convinced."

The man shrugged again and made a point to avoid Roy's scrutinizing gaze, focusing on cleaning Ed's shoulder instead. The boy didn't even twitch, which was bound to be a bad sign.

"What I meant was, why are _you_ here?"

No audible answer was offered, only a shrug and a deep sigh to further fuel Roy's temper.

Mr. Slime, as the Flame alchemist had begun to dub the man in the lack of proper introductions, finished cleaning Ed's injuries. With the soot and grime covering them removed to some extent, Roy could see the damage done to the teen in all its gory. Ed's right shoulder had been all but impaled, revealing the metal of his automail port underneath the torn skin and highlighting the boy's injuries in a morbid mix of crimson and steel. It was a macabre sight, and even though Roy had known Fullmetal was in bad shape, he scowled seeing his subordinate's condition.

The kid simply wasn't meant to look that vulnerable and weak. And he certainly didn't deserve to be reduced to such a state, or to have the remnants of his torture cleaned with nothing but some shitty napkins!

"Looks good enough to me" The man mused and wiped his bloodied hands on his sweatpants.

"Are you blind? That's not _good_ , far from it!" Roy accused heatedly. "He needs treatment, not a bloody wipe-down!"

"What's the point?" The man mumbled disinterestedly, his sole focus remaining on Ed. "They'd just get in the way, you know."

Unfortunately, Roy understood the man's implications perfectly, as revolting as they were. He knew it was only a matter of time before Remy would return to repeat a question Roy had no answer to, and he'd be forced to sentence Fullmetal to another set of injuries.

Who was he to argue with their captors when it was so utterly _logical_ and _just_ to leave Ed untreated; his bandages would be drenched with new blood in no time after all, anyway, so why bother? Roy's blood boiled with the thought, and he pulled on his shackles experimentally, still hoping against hope that they would budge at some point. His wish was not granted, and the man merely smirked at the alchemist's vain attempts as he got up to leave.

"You can't just leave him like that!" Roy snarled.

The man stopped, falling back on his knees. He smiled at Roy – a toothy, horrendous grin, like a cat's victorious smirk after catching the mouse it planned to disembowel. The expression sent shivers up Roy's spine and he fought back a revolted flinch.

"You know, for a kid, he's kinda cute." The man smiled sinisterly, and cupped Fullmetal's chin with his right hand. "I could take good _care_ of lil' blondie."

' _What the…'_ Roy was perturbed by the disturbing turn of events and, most of all, by the almost caring manner the man now treated Ed with. But he didn't buy the man's poorly built façade of compassion for a second. He recognized a twisted low life when he saw one.

"That's not what I meant, you sick bastard!" The raven barked. The practically _hungry_ gleam in the man's beady eyes made Roy's fingers pose to snap out of instinct. "Step the hell away from my subordinate!"

"What's this? First you want me to stay, then you tell me to bugger off?" The man sneered, and Roy growled as the Slime's hand _slipped_ under Ed's tank top. "Mixed messages, Colonel, mixed messages _._ "

"I'm not repeating myself. Leave now, while you still have all your body parts intact."

The man didn't dignify Roy's empty threats with a reply, much to the alchemist's added ire. He remained in a kneeling position next to the unconscious teen, observing his sleep with fascination that could have rivaled Roy's previous mesmerized state.

Fullmetal sure seemed out of it, but what if he wasn't? What if he would remember those unwanted touches and the way Mr. Slime whispered sweet nothings into his ear? Would he ever forgive Roy for allowing such a horrid act come to pass?

The sleazeball's large, bloodied hands trailed over Ed's chin, before sliding down his neck and slipping under his collar to trace his clavicle. Roy was filled with equal measures of fear and fury.

"Take your hands off him!"

' _I am going to burn these men alive. Incinerate them until nothing remains for doing this to my subordinate, conscious or not.'_

"Get the hell away from him, now!"

Whatever the case, Roy sure would never forgive himself. He could feel something break inside him and all inhibitions and logical thought abandoned him. The situation was beyond any of his most repugnant worst-case scenarios. Ed was _thirteen_ for goodness' sake, only a man in the making and innocent in ways Roy was not and never would be again.

Roy scowled. Had the Elrics ever even had the time for puberty? Was Ed, in all his intellect and book smarts, actually ignorant when it came to mundanities like love and its more physical aspects? In a way, he hoped not; understanding was the key for acceptance, after all. And if the brothers could more or less read the contents of an entire library in one sitting, who was to say the boys hadn't encountered information about such a basic aspect of the human anatomy?

Surely they had learned about the birds and the bees during their studies, but theory was far from actually experiencing intimacy. With the boys' parents unavailable, so to speak, Roy feared that this unwanted advance was the closest Ed had come to an actual loving embrace in years. Hugging a hollow metal armor didn't sound too comfortable, after all.

The man ran his hand on the defenseless boy's inner thigh and an overwhelming feeling of helplessness washed over Roy. Seeing something so despicable and inhumane was like a punch to the gut to him; knocking the wind out of his lungs and leaving him breathless.

He fought even harder to free himself from the cursed bindings, trashed and tore until felt the wound in his shoulder open and warm blood trickle down his side. He didn't pay it much attention, for he needed to stay awake and lucid in order to support his subordinate through the hell the boy had done nothing to deserve.

He needed to see what happened to Full… No, what happened to _Edward_. Roy had promised the kid to get him out in one piece, and he'd be damned if he couldn't do just that.

His mouth operated on its own accord, spewing out the insults his scrambled brain failed to produce.

"Leave the kid alone you damn slime!" He ordered with urgency. "Get out. Now!"

"What, you want in on this or something?" The man smirked lasciviously and licked his lips. Roy had never wanted to vomit more in his entire life.

"Hey, quit that. I'd like to stick to the equivalent exchange of it all."

The voice and the person Roy had grown to hate entered the room. He had never heard the door open or close, and Roy briefly wondered if the man had been in their little cell the entire time, just to taunt him.

Mr. Slime stood and released Ed from his hold, but not before giving the boy a lewd peck on the cheek. Roy grimaced but kept quiet. He was unwilling to give the degenerate any prompt to carry on with his _ministrations_.

When he was finally released, Ed slumped back to the chair, boneless and deflated. A couple of scratches and injuries had reopened from his unconscious activities, and Roy glared at them as if daring them to close.

Mr. Slime left the room with a disappointed huff, and Roy was unsure whether he was happy with the turn of events or not. As grateful as he was to be finally rid of the man, his absence meant that Roy was once again left to Remy's mercy. Ed had received no mercy to begin with.

"Thank you." He muttered begrudgingly. Remy shrugged off the unexpected show of gratitude.

"So, _Colonel_ , shall we pick up where we left off?" Their captor hissed the title. "Maybe this time around you'd like to at least _try_ with the answering part? I really hope so, for the kid's sake."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Let him go." Roy said. Remy smirked and walked over to Ed.

He couldn't see any tools with Remy this time around, but his leather satchel was still laid next to the Colonel on the table where it had been mocking Roy for hours. What he wouldn't have given to have one of the scalpels in his grasp.

"It was years ago, and there were so many…" Roy started, but Remy cut him off.

"Huh, so my baby boy wasn't worth remembering for the _great_ Flame alchemist?" Remy smiled ominously. "Maybe I should remind you?"

Roy gave no answer, glaring at the smug man.

"When my boy was brought home, he was not only beaten and stabbed. No, your _mutts_ had had their fun with him, alright." He chuckled. "I wonder if it was you that left those burns on his skin? Should I be _honored_ to know it was a _Colonel_ that cut off four of my child's fingers?"

"What gives you the right?" The man asked quietly in a broken voice.

Roy lowered his head in disgust. He had known the interrogations could get... _rough_. He had been present for many of them himself, and therefore he couldn't be absolutely sure that it hadn't been his alchemy burning a defenseless child.

And that was what horrified him the most, to know that there was a possibility he was simply getting his just deserts, whereas Ed had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"What gives you the right?" Remy repeated menacingly.

"It was war." The Colonel stated. "We did what was needed."

No matter how he wished for things to be different, war was a brutal business and never came without its victims. That considered, Roy felt his actions during those times had been justified. If even one civilian life had been spared because of him, he could live with the regret and shame his acts of terror had brought along with them.

"WHAT THE FUCK GIVES YOU THE RIGHT?" Remy bellowed, and with one smooth motion he yanked Ed's head upwards by his hair and aimed a punch to the kid's windpipe.

Amber eyes shot open from the impact and Ed's hands struggled to reach his neck, but were effectively restrained by the shackles. Ed's world spun. He felt like he was underwater, all sights and sounds were muddled and warped, much like his thoughts.

"Wakey wakey Puppy dearest _._ Sleep well, I hope?"

"A hell of a way to… wake someone… asshole…" Ed rasped in between wheezing breaths, glaring daggers at the man. He couldn't breathe. No matter how greedily he gasped for air, none of it seemed to reach his lungs.

He felt the first punch only vaguely thanks to his body being numbed with the cold and loss of blood, but he scowled no less. Remy smirked seeing his grimace and winked at Roy before making Ed see stars with a forceful punch to his nose. Ed heard it break, but felt nothing.

' _Blessings in disguise'_ , he mused to himself.

"Let him go, can't you see he needs a doctor?" Roy all but shouted, but the man paid him no attention. "I said leave him alone you piece of shit!"

"Funny that you'd say that, after Puppy was so convinced that you didn't care. You do, don't you?" Remy smirked, obviously pleased with himself. The next punch was aimed to Ed's chest with newfound vigor, knocking the wind out of the wounded alchemist.

Roy scolded himself mentally; the little outburst had made him feel slightly better and created a temporary illusion that he had done something to help Ed. It was a blatant lie and he knew it, but he couldn't simply sit there like an obedient dog Remy expected him to be. He had to do something.

"Fullmetal, you're doing great. I'll get you out of here and you'll see your brother soon. Trust me." He said in an uncharacteristically soft and comforting tone. He had to do _something._

"You'll have to go the hospital, though." He added with a half-hearted smirk.

Ed's entire world spun, and the most recent punches to his midriff hadn't exactly helped the intake of oxygen. That being said, he was rather proud with the dirty look he managed to send the Colonel's way.

Roy shuddered under the pointed glare.

The ' _are you fucking kidding me, bastard?'_ Ed's eyes practically screamed was loud and clear without a single spoken word. And it wasn't like he could blame the kid for not believing him, when even Roy could hear how empty his words sounded. When he didn't fully believe the words, either.

But it was all he could do to at least _try_ ease the boy's pain.

"What was that about him not giving a shit, huh, Puppy?" Remy smirked maniacally, earning another hateful glare from the beaten teen. He turned his back on the two alchemists and reached for the leather satchel. Roy's breath hitched with fear as he saw the man conjure a small blowtorch and a metallic rod from the confines of the bag.

"Did you know they say that burns are the most painful injuries?"

The flame flickered to life, bright and torrid, and illuminated Remy's features ominously. Roy could only watch in horror as the maniac heated the blade until it was flaming red. "What am I saying, of course you do."

Roy clenched his teeth almost audibly to hold back the swarm of insult threatening to spill out. He would not succumb to the man's derisions and give him an excuse to further hurt Ed.

' _Riza, where are you!'_

"I know I cannot create flames like our beloved _Colonel_ here, but I'll try my best, just for you two." The man smirked.

"So… How about answering my question now, _Colonel?_ "

Roy could only shake his head apologetically at Ed. He could feel the fear oozing from the kid, and yet his gaze was met with a pair of hazy but burning amber eyes. Roy felt strangely relieved to see the stubbornness in them.

The madman would need to do a lot more before Edward Elric would break.

Ed failed to hold back a surprised scream as the sizzling hot pole met with his side. The blond trembled from the pain and Roy could see a line of blood fall from his lip where he had bit in to keep from screaming more.

"Does this bring back memories, C _olonel?_ The screams, burning flesh… Must be awfully nostalgic for you."

Yes, the unmistakable stench of burning flesh did bring back memories for Roy. Terrible ones. In his mind's eye, he saw innocent civilians burned and killed by the snap of his fingers, slaughtered without any other reason than sense of duty and the clichéd ramble of _'it's all in the name of the greater good, blah blah blah'._

What a joke.

"I wonder how many people you've burned, _Colonel_?" Remy sneered. Roy hated the man with a passion.

After some excruciatingly long seconds the pole was removed and Ed was once again left gasping for air. His arms twitched vehemently as instinct guided them to reach for his sweltering side, but were held back by the bindings. Remy looked approvingly at the large burn he had inflicted on his victim, tracing his fingers around its edges and earning new flinches from Ed, who gulped at the touch and tried to jerk away from the unwelcome, cold hands.

"You know that he could put a stop to this anytime? End the pain, just by a word. But he hasn't done that now has he? Be a good pup and tell him." Remy smiled cruelly. "Tell the _Colonel_ how much you hate him for this."

"Screw you." Ed started, but the words were drowned in a fit of hacking coughs. Roy could have sworn he saw droplets of blood leave the boy's mouth. "It's not his fault you're a damn psychopath!"

Feeling undeserving of his subordinate's trust, Roy just stared at the kid with gratitude and worry.

Why was he this weak? If he was unable to keep his subordinates safe, let alone a kid like Ed, what base did his claim to become the Fuhrer have? If he failed to protect those closest to him, how could he expect to shield an entire _nation_ from harm? He clenched his hands into tight fists. He had never felt this _useless_ in his life.

He would have given virtually anything to recall the name Remy wanted to know so badly. And, as much as he wanted to torch the man for causing his people pain, he could do that after Ed would be in a hospital bed, complaining about needles or something immature like that.

Remy seethed, and backhanded Ed with speed that sent his head flying to the side.

"I'm betting you'll be saying the opposite when I'm done with you, Puppy."

Ed growled defiantly, spitting out blood from his split lip and scowling as the newly gained burn chafed from the movement. "Is that all you can do? Beat on people when they're tied up? You're pathetic."

"Is that so?" Remy smiled, and Ed's feigned confidence withered away under the man's scrutiny. It was as if the maniac was scanning him for weak points, and in his condition Ed knew he was bound to find plenty. Seeing the hungry look in the man's eye made actual, raw fear crept up on him and Ed cast a quick glance to Roy, seeking comfort and protection from the familiar figure.

The impact was unexpected and swift, leaving Ed no time to react. The metallic rod that had only moments ago been scorching his side was abruptly embedded deep in the blonde's thigh. Ed stared at his leg in confusion. He could see it was impaled, and feel the blood pooling out the wound, but there was no pain.

Shouldn't there be pain when you suddenly have a bit more metal in your limbs than usual?

He could hear someone screaming, and wanted to help. Whoever it was, the person sounded like he was dying a slow, agonizing death. It was the most terrifying sound Ed had heard for a long time.

The whole scene felt unreal to Roy, and a part of him was beginning to be convinced that he had indeed lost his sanity. The rest of him knew that in any case he wasn't too far from it.

Ed's cries had become wild and animalistic, with a pleading undertone in them that Roy had never imagined the fellow alchemist could even be capable of producing. The kid was clearly not in this world anymore, detached both from himself and the pain in his flesh leg. It was utterly obscene and horrible, and had Roy been given anything to eat during their lovely little _vacation_ , his stomach contents would have been coating the floor in no time.

"Stop… Please. Hurt me instead if you must." Roy heard himself begging. He felt a lonely tear fall on his cheek, but he didn't pay it much attention.

' _Begging, Roy, really?'_

Roy's only answer was a new piercing scream from Ed. Another innocent paying the price for his sins.

' _Keep yourself alive, shrimp. I won't forgive you if you give in to these freaks.'_

* * *

**In Resembool:**

It had been a long day for Alphonse.

The days of pouring rain had left Resembool in a state of distress. The small rural town had been completely unprepared to deal with the threat of flooding, and Al had been enlisted to help mend the hastily built dams shielding his home from the masses of water.

The day had been long for all of them, really, and what with him being a suit of armor incapable of feeling fatigue or hunger, Al knew he shouldn't complain.

It had been challenging and therefore also very entertaining to Alphonse to have an opportunity to prove his alchemical prowess without his older brother's guidance. But the constant use of alchemy had left the twelve year old drained and irritable, and Al wanted nothing more but to get himself back to Granny Pinako's and calm himself with a good book.

Continuously fixing the haphazard dams had been oddly nostalgic. Al had repeatedly flashed back to the moment he and his brother first saw their teacher protect their home village with her alchemy. It had truly been a defining moment for them, changing their lives for both better and worse. Al made a mental note to ask Ed if they could go visit the hotheaded teacher when the state alchemist was done with his duties.

It was still raining as Al dragged himself back to Granny's place. As soon as the small house was in sight, he saw a blond head pop out the upstairs window. He had to strain his nonexistent ears to hear her words.

"Al, there's a call for you! It's from the military!"

"Is it brother?"Al asked hopefully. Winry shrugged and the blond head disappeared back inside.

Al's heart jumped with expectant glee. He hadn't seen his brother for days, and Al would have been lying if he had said he didn't miss Ed. And why wouldn't he miss his only remaining family? They were always together, always there for each other, and his overprotective older brother's absence made Al feel fragile and lonely.

He raced to the house and the phone that was waiting for him on the counter. Granny Pinako and Winry were eating dinner, refusing to lift their eyes from the steaming bowls of soup. If he'd had the physical capabilities to do so, Al would have smiled at the sight.

But his cheerful voice adequately doubled as a smile when he picked up the receiver, eager to hear Ed's voice once more.

"Brother? It's crazy here, you should see it, really. Remember that old dam master fixed? Well…" He rambled enthusiastically.

" _Sorry, Alphonse. It's Riza Hawkeye, from Colonel Mustang's office."_

"Oh... Hi, Lieutenant. Nice to hear from you." Al answered with ingrained courtesy despite his disappointment. "Is something the matter?"

Al heard a deep sigh from the other end of the line and his mental smile died down, replaced with foreboding apprehension.

" _I'm afraid I have some bad news for you."_ The woman's voice started. _"It's about your brother. He's missing, Alphonse."_

Al felt all strength seep out of him as the Lieutenant's words echoed in his mind. He had a hard time processing them not to mention accepting the new information. He had just seen Ed. This couldn't be happening. Why?

"How long has he been missing? How do you know he is in trouble? Where…"

The questions spewed uncontrollably from Al's mouth and, back in Eastern command, Riza cleared her throat.

" _I think it would be best I explain the situation to you face to face. How fast can you get to the headquarters?"_

Any ill feelings Al had still harbored from the hardships of the day transformed into proud elation. Thanks to his efforts, the trains were still running and he would be able to head to East City first thing in the morning. But that did nothing to ease his worries.

"Is my brother okay, Lieutenant?"

" _I'm sorry. I don't know. Just… just get here soon, Alphonse."_

The call ended with Lieutenant Hawkeye promising to meet Al at the train-station, so he could be involved in the search for his brother from the get-go. As involved as a twelve year old could be allowed to be in a military investigation, that was.

If a soul bound suit of armor could have wept, Al would have cried enough to warrant a new flood warning. His mind was abuzz with worry, and all thoughts of relaxing with a good book on alchemical theories suddenly seemed irrelevant and foolish to Al.

Why didn't he go with Ed? Would his brother be safe and sound if he had simply been there to watch his back? Would he blame Al for his absence?

Most importantly, would Al be able to find him in time? Was his brother hurt and alone somewhere, and...

Was he even still alive?

"I'm sorry, brother. I'm on my way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm off to watch cat videos or something before I give in and kill my OC's.
> 
> Don't own. Betaed by Lea Ootori.


	6. The Answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shit hits the fan. Also there's a lot of bad language in this one.

He was so close. It had been hours of grueling work that had left his fingers raw and hurting, but he knew it would all be worth the effort if he were to succeed. And he had to, had to, succeed, or else he feared there might not be another chance. He feared it might be too late for Ed if he would fail.

A small eternity had passed since Remy had left, but the screams of his maimed subordinate still rang in Roy's ears. They had shattered both his reason and his resolve; leaving him nothing but an empty shell and a creature of instinct, hellbent on escaping the never-ending sounds of sheer agony. Although Roy was positive that he never would find solace from them, that Ed's pained cries would simply join the cavalcade of nightmares that already tormented him whenever he closed his eyes.

But that was hardly the issue. The more prominent and loud voice in his head was the one screaming at him to get Ed to a hospital. Roy had long since stopped even thinking about the stupid name.

Fuck Remy and fuck his idiot kid.

He was sure Ed wouldn't survive another meeting with the madman and, based on the huge pool of blood in his feet Roy feared that, even with immediate care, the kid's injuries might be too extensive to recover from. The possibility was too horrid to think of, and Roy banished the thought from his mind.

He would get Ed out and to safety, no matter the end result, for he absolutely refused to let his subordinate die like a mutt in an alley. Fullmetal deserved better, hell, Ed deserved to live a long and happy life, maybe romance that cute mechanic friend of his and grow old with her and his brother.

Then again, he had not deserved to lose his mother, his limbs and his brother's body, either.

Ed's hair was a matted bloody mess and he was sickly pale despite the light pink flush of fever on his cheeks. The metal pole was still lodged in his right leg, as his injuries had once again gone untreated. Perhaps it was for the best, Roy mused; the metal was most probably blocking the flow of blood and thus also the only thing keeping the kid alive.

He was sure their captors had the resources and the skill to treat him, seeing as he was covered head to toe with bandages himself. But Ed wasn't allowed such luxuries, and he was instead left a completely limp in the chair with the remnants of his gruesome torture in clear view.

Roy had to admit he could see the point in this new way of indirect torture, for the sight of Ed's disfigured and broken form made his skin crawl and his breath hitch. He was positive that nothing Remy could have done to him would ever have hurt as much as hurting Fullmetal had, and _did_.

He grimaced as the ties binding his wrists to place dug deeper into his flesh, but discarded the pain. He had no time for such frivolities, not when he was so close.

From the moment Remy had left the room the Colonel had set to work, fueled by desperate determination. With some effort, he had managed to tear the sleeve of his dress shirt with his one hand, giving him better access to the buttons sawn into the fabric. There were three of them, if Roy recalled correctly; all large, sharp and made of metal. If he could only get one of them to his reach, they would be the perfect tool for drawing arrays into the chair.

They could also be the only key to their escape.

His fingers bled from the rough edges, but Roy paid it no mind. His eyes were trained on the unconscious boy in front of him once again, searching for any sign of life. A part of him was worried that Ed might not wake up from his uneasy slumber, and then he would have to explain his weakness and inadequacy to Alphonse.

But that didn't hold a candle to the fear that all but paralyzed him when he thought of the looming spectre that he would have to live with himself and his failures, should he just fail to rip a _goddamn_ button off his _goddamn_ shirt. It was as simple as that to Roy, and yet it could have easily been the most difficult feat known to mankind. After all the long hours of arduous and unrelenting tries, he was frustrated beyond belief. Perhaps there was no getting away from Remy?

Out of the blue, Ed groaned in his sleep and his eyes clenched together tightly. His brow furrowed and the boy fidgeted in his seat as much as the bindings and the metal in his leg would allow him to.

A sound, something between a whimper and a whisper left his lips, but Roy could not make out anything comprehensible. His sole focus was on the lithe blonde's pain-filled face, and his fingers worked on the stubborn buttons with newfound vigor.

"No…"

The Colonel had to strain his ears to make sure that he had heard correctly, and even then he didn't want to believe Ed had been the one speaking. He was shocked by the frail sound that the fiery fellow alchemist's former roars had been reduced to. The kid had gone still, only the knuckles of his flesh arm revealing his distress with their whiteness.

"Fullmetal? Ed? Can you hear me, shrimp?" Roy whispered urgently, but Ed showed no sign of ever hearing him. Roy had been halfway hoping that the familiar insult would snap the blonde out of whatever nightmare he was having, and Ed would simply jump out of that cursed chair with a set of insults of his own, unscathed and without a care in the world.

No such luck.

"No, leave him alone, Al..." Ed pleaded in his sleep, his whole body heaving with effort to protect his brother in the sandman's land, even when he himself was the one in need of aid. "Don't hurt him!"

The button was tied to the shirt only by a thread, and Roy's heart jumped with elation. He kept ignoring the fact that he had no plan, and the idea of escaping unnoticed with a broken leg and a half-dead thirteen year old seemed like an impossible feat. Especially when Roy was fairly certain that moving Fullmetal any more than absolutely necessary might prove fatal.

But he was so close, and the mere idea of breaking his and Ed's chains seemed too good to be true.

"Please, Al. I'm sorry. Please." He heard Ed cry, and for a moment Roy pictured a small boy waking up from a nightmare, alone and scared, searching for comfort where there was none. The realism of that scenario for Ed made him grimace, but there would be time for comfort when the kid would be out of the woods and in a gurney.

All that mattered to Roy at that moment was the soft sound of metal clinking against metal as the string broke and his hand fell to rest against the handle, with a large button in his fingertips. Roy had never drawn an array quicker in his life.

It was simple, and he knew Fullmetal would have sneered at the sight of it, but in all its crudity and primitiveness it was still perfectly operational. Roy closed his eyes in a silent prayer to a god he didn't believe in and pressed his palm onto the small array.

Alchemic crackle echoed in the empty room and the raven opened his eyes with a relieved sigh. The zip-ties around his wrists were aflame, burning his own skin along with the plastic. But the fire felt cathartic to Roy; cleansing and liberating him of the hours in captivity. He relished his newly regained freedom for a second or two, before brushing the remains of the bindings to the floor and getting to work on the ones still tying his feet to the chair.

Another array and another transmutation later, his legs were marred with similar burns as his wrists, but Roy was free.

_'Fucking finally.'_

Walking with a broken leg was difficult and incredibly painful, as was to be expected. It was the most exhausting two meters he had ever walked in his life, but somehow Roy managed to crawl over to the teen. He used the chair as a pathetic excuse for a crutch, and the sound of dragging it on the stone floor was ear-piercing. He was sure that if Remy was still anywhere near them, he would be there in a second, but he tried to ignore such thoughts the best he could.

Ed squirmed and Roy saw fresh tears fall on his cheeks, clearing away some of the grime and the dirt covering his skin. He leaned roughly against the boy's seat and Fullmetal himself, unable to put any more weight to his leg than he already had. The bodily contact was reassuring and something Roy hadn't realized he needed; a confirmation that Ed was really there in flesh and blood, and that he was _alive_. He could feel the warmth of his skin, what little there was, and see his chest rising and falling with labored breaths.

"Al. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Al." Ed sobbed. Roy scowled and wrapped his arms around the teen as best he could with his hurt and relatively immobile shoulder. "Don't die."

"It's okay, kiddo. Just a nightmare. Wake up, we're getting out of here." Roy said and gently shook Ed, expecting him to wake up from the movement and the pain that undoubtedly followed.

But the boy only grimaced and continued his chanting. It was a desperate string of pleas that made Roy's heart clench. Who would have thought that a thirteen year old could hold so much self-deprecation and regret within him?

"Ed." He said with a bit more force and pinched the boy's cold, clammy cheek with his fingernails.

He had thought that the small stimuli would simply be drowned by the agonizing injuries, and almost lost his footing out of shock when the teen gasped and fell silent for a moment before a pair bleary amber eyes flickered open.

"Colonel?" Ed slurred.

Roy smiled somberly in a mock attempt of reassurance, but he couldn't quite manage to add any emotion to it. He almost opened his mouth to ask if the kid was okay, but quickly retracted the words. He didn't need to ask the question to know the answer.

Ed blinked slowly, still unsure if he was conscious or not. Where was he, anyway? He followed the Colonel's line of sight to his leg, and was genuinely surprised to see the metal sticking out of his thigh.

What was going on? And why did the Colonel look so… _worried_?

"It's going to be okay, Fullmetal. Just breathe." Roy said, not fully convinced the teen could even hear him anymore. "I'll get you to Al, I… I promise."

Ed had no time to further analyze the implications of Mustang's actions as, without a warning, he was hit with a tidal wave of unfathomable agony. Every cell of his body felt like it was being torn apart from the seams.

But Ed clung onto that pain, embraced it and used it as a shield to keep him from falling back into unconsciousness. He was not doing it to hear more of the Colonel's calming words, absolutely not, just out of mere curiosity. And perhaps because there was a part of him deathly afraid that he might not wake up the next time he would fall asleep.

Only thing worse than the pain was the alarming cold and the numbness slowly claiming him, Ed realized, as he tried to wiggle his toes and got no response. That couldn't be a good sign, but then again, his flesh leg had apparently been quite recently impaled. How did that happen?

"Listen, Fullmetal. Stay awake, that's an order."

Ed didn't have the strength to glare at the shitty Colonel. He wasn't even entirely sure if the words had been said or not, and truthfully, he was too tired to care. He mustered a strained, faint snicker.

"P-pulling rank here, Bastard? If I-I didn't know better, I'd say y-you sound concerned."

Roy smiled softly hearing Fullmetal's grumbling. He had almost done carving another transmutation array to Ed's shackles but, seeing as the boy had been bound with actual metal instead of the plastic Roy had been treated to, it was slow going.

He could have burned them off with ease, but Roy figured that he was already responsible enough for the boy's numerous injuries, and he refused to add to them. His expertise in the less combustive fields of alchemy was limited at best, but after several minutes of listening to Ed whimper in pain and holding the boy as his entire body was racked with fits of hacking coughs, Roy finally finished the ugliest array he had ever drawn in his life. There seemed to be a pattern.

But it would have to do, he didn't exactly have the time for elegance.

Alchemic crackle filled the room once again, and the cuffs disintegrated. Had his leg not been broken and his subordinate in any better shape, Roy would have leapt with joy. The bindings holding Ed's legs in place were easier to transmute open, and soon enough Roy had his hands full with a bleeding and unmoving Fullmetal.

"Listen up shrimp." Roy muttered, gritting his teeth through the pain Ed's added weight brought along with it. How could the scrawny brat be so damn heavy?

"I don't know how, but I'll get you out of here. Just… _please_ stay awake, Ed." He added hesitantly.

The kid's feverish eyes fluttered open and shut as Ed slipped in and out of consciousness, and Roy worried that one of those times they might not open again. He rushed to grab the chair he had used for support before and with it as his crutch and Ed as his cargo, he attempted to take a step towards the exit.

But his escape was cut short when Roy heard the door slam open and a gunshot reverberated in the air.

Roy cried out in shock as a bullet tore through his calf and his feet fell from under him. Ed was dropped unceremoniously to the floor and he stayed there, barely breathing and an agonized scowl plastered on his features. The Colonel heard footsteps and someone -probably Remy- cursing under their breath, but he couldn't move. With one leg broken and the other shot to hell, he wasn't too surprised of his immobility, but that did nothing to lessen his desire to escape.

A harsh kick hit his side and Roy coughed out out spit and blood.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?" He heard Remy snarl maliciously.

"What does it look like?" Roy answered through gritted teeth and earned another kick for his efforts. His vision blurred for a moment and only the sight of Ed's prone form kept Roy from succumbing to the darkness.

He turned his head upwards with some trouble and saw Remy smirk. He looked worse for wear too with his bloodshot eyes sunken deep in his head, and cold sweat covering his skin. He held a bottle of whiskey in his hand and there was a slight waver in his step. The man was drunk.

"We're getting out of here." Roy wheezed, but Remy only smirked and gestured to the bleeding boy.

"Little pup here doesn't look like he'll be going anywhere anymore. Sad, but dogs do have shorter lifespans, don't they _Colonel_?"

Roy looked at Ed, who had fallen on his side to the Colonel's feet, and therefore he had no way of knowing whether the kid was awake or not. Or alive, for that matter.

"What are you going to do to him?" Roy asked softly.

Remy smirked arrogantly and gently patted Roy's raven locks, much to his distaste.

"Don't worry about that. I'm just going to put the dog out of its misery." He chuckled. "It is the merciful thing to do, after all."

"No!" Roy gasped, aghast of the threat he had been anticipating but not prepared for. He didn't care about his own future anymore. All his dreams and ambitions felt like they had been washed away by the tears of Edward Elric, and Roy was left an empty slate. The only thought occupying his mind was _escape escape escape._

"Believe me, I didn't want it to come to this." Remy mumbled, almost apologetically. "It's not a habit of mine to kill kids you know… I don't have the military experience you do, _Colonel_."

"But please, by all means, stop me." He laughed. "Tell me my son's name or, hah, even better, fight me off. You are free now, aren't you?"

"Go to hell!" Roy roared, but the truth behind the maniac's taunts brought desperate tears in his eyes once more. Remy was right, he was free, he had almost made it, and for what? To watch idly by as some deranged sadist on a personal crusade would blow Ed's brains out, and then slowly bleed to death himself?

Roy knew he needed treatment too, although not as much as Fullmetal did. The lack of pain and the horrible nausea in the pit of his stomach spoke of shock, as if his body was mirroring his mental state.

"Don't you dare touch him." Roy tried to threaten, but the words came out muddled and lifeless.

"Or what? You'll cough on me?" Remy sneered. "You couldn't back those words up even if I'd give you this." He said and waved the gun in his hand. The same that had put a hole in Roy's leg moments before.

"I'll make you pay." Roy growled, but the threat was undermined by a fit of wheezing coughs.

"Oh, lighten up, _Colonel_." The man slurred and took a long swig from the bottle in his hand.

"Want some?"

Before Roy could react, or even process Remy's words, the glass bottle was jammed to his lips. The madman tilted the bottle and Roy's chin along with it, and the alchemist could feel the acrid liquid flow onto his tongue, on his skin and into his wounds. He let out a guttural groan from the stinging pain and clenched his eyes shut tighter.

Under different circumstances, he would have relished the stiff drink, but at that panic-filled moment the mere thought of intoxication felt irresponsible and borderline suicidal. And usually he poured his own liquor.

Roy struggled against Remy's hold, and tried to clamp his lips together in order to stop the burning substance from invading his body any further. But the man was relentless, and before long Roy was forced to swallow the alcohol.

He wondered what could possibly motivate their captors to get a bound and bleeding man drunk, but none of the feasible answers eased his mind. The last drink of a dead man, per chance?

He didn't want to think about it too much.

Remy let out a long, cackling laugh and Roy heard the bottle clatter on the stone floor. Roy opened his mouth to curse the man, when he heard Remy click the safety off his gun and his mind was wiped clean.

Hopeless tears began falling out of Roy's eyes again. He couldn't remember a time he had last cried as much, or at all for that matter. He was almost hoping that Ed had fallen unconscious once more. It would be a small mercy, but at least the kid wouldn't even notice it when he died.

"I wonder if you cried like that when it was my son who was dying. But something tells me you didn't even care."

"Don't you dare... don't do this... I'll _kill_ you, I swear I will if you touch him!" He cursed and tried to get up, to tackle Remy, to get the gun and to save Ed. But their captor only laughed and kicked him back to the ground, and Roy knew instantly that he had no strength left for another attempt. He was left high and dry.

He was too _weak_.

"I know this is wrong, believe me..." Remy said, as he walked to Ed with slow, deliberate strides. "I'll let you go after this. You can call your little friends and I won't resist."

He aimed the gun to Ed's clueless temple. Roy wanted to at least shout, to wake Fullmetal so that the kid could kick Remy's deranged ass, but he had no strength left. He was drained and in pain, and his body refused to move no matter how hard he tried. He heard someone approach, but he was too horrified and shocked to tear his eyes off the gun and the boy it was aimed at.

"But that doesn't make revenge any less desirable. This is justice." He looked at Roy triumphantly. "A son for a son."

_'Son?_ '

A gunshot echoed in the room, and Roy screamed with strength he didn't know he still had.

He was sure it was all over; that the bright light that was Edward Elric had been effectively smothered. That the thirteen year old child would never get the chance to grow up and change the world with his wits and will.

That Roy would never hear the kid's sardonic laughter and the _'Colonel Bastard'_ that so often followed it.

But after a moment of absolute terror, Roy realized that never saw Ed react to his supposed murder. There was no blood or even a flinch to indicate that the bullet had pierced skin and, for a split second, Roy thought that Remy had missed.

But then the man holding the gun fell face first to the ground and cried in pain, clutching onto his bleeding leg, and Roy was presented with option number three.

He turned his head to follow the bullet's trajectory, expecting and hoping to see Lieutenant Hawkeye. But he was disappointed, not to mention dumbfounded, to be met with the sight of Mr. Slime holding a smoking gun in his wavering hands and with tears falling on his cheeks.

"I can't do this anymore, brother." He sniffled pitifully. "I can go along with almost anything else, hell, the kid is cute. But not killing. I need you to remember now, before you do something you'll regret later. He didn't kill your son, Vidar."

_'What the… who the hell is Vidar?'_

Roy was sure he had misheard. That there was some mistake, and the men would simply laugh and reveal it all to be merely an elegant prank. Surely even fate couldn't be as cruel as to make them go through hell and leave them bleeding and dying, hollowed shells of their former shells, simply because a madman had made a mistake in identities.

No fucking, goddamn way that was possible.

"You're wrong, I have a son, and he…" Remy, whose actual name must have been Vidar all along Roy realized, screamed and waved the gun precariously in the air. "… He killed him, he killed them both!"

Mr. Slime, the man who had only hours before laid his filthy hands on Ed, smiled wistfully and shook his head.

"No, he didn't, brother."

Roy heard Ed groan and whimper, and he could have laughed if he'd still had the energy to do so. Ed was alive, and that small fragment of hope made all his anger and bloodlust seem pointless. For that moment, at least.

"No, I remember, I saw him, he was burned!" Their captor screamed and aimed the gun at Roy, safety off and a finger dangerously close to the trigger. Despite the imminent danger, all Roy could think of was _'Thank you for not pointing it at him, shoot me, not him'._

He closed his eyes and resigned himself to his fate, hoping that at the price of life, Ed's would be spared.

The second gunshot never came, and a fraction of Roy was grateful for it. Another fraction wondered if he deserved to survive. The majority of him was only focused on Ed and making sure he was still breathing.

"I was there with you, brother. I saw your family, but they weren't killed by the military." The other man, whose Roy was still yet to learn, implored Vidar.

_'Or was it Remy?'_

"Then who?" Vidar screeched and lunged at his brother, ignoring his captives.

_Bang._

The second gunshot Roy had been waiting for sounded, and he expected pain, blood and death to follow it. He was ready, had accepted his fate and the thought of making penance for his sins felt oddly comforting in his adrenaline induced haze.

So when Roy saw the two brothers holding on to each other while a pool of blood grew in their feet, he was almost disappointed. The men who had taken pleasure in tormenting him and Ed, were reduced to a whimpering, crying heap of limbs. Roy had no way of knowing who had shot who. Two lunatics with loaded guns could lead to the most unexpected of results.

He heard Mr. Slime sob something with a broken voice, but he refused to believe his ears.

"You… you did. Brother, I need you to remember, you killed them!"

Roy cursed to himself. He shouldn't have expected any less after his previous experiences with chance, or Ed's. But still this was exceptional, even for him. The two of them really must have been blessed by the deities of both bad luck and tragedy. Or cursed.

_'Fate, you goddamn bastard piece of shit.'_

"Brother, after the war, you lost your mind. I know you don't remember it, but I was there, I saw what you had done!" The man yelled, pleaded, really.

"I came for a visit and you had blacked out, you had, and I found them dead! You snapped, brother, and it wasn't your fault. But it isn't theirs either! You promised not to kill them!"

They were both crying now, and Roy realized that he was, too. It was such a cruel, evil, unfair twist of fate. He thought offhandedly that the scene before him resembled Al's own devotion to Ed, and the little fights the two brothers sometimes had in many aspects. A stubborn older brother and a more rational younger one.

He never heard their captor and tormentor apologize, and truth be told Roy didn't want him to. They didn't deserve to ask for forgiveness after all they had done, and Roy was miffed that he didn't get to be the one to burn Vidar to smithereens.

Or whatever the fuck his name was.

Seconds stretched to hazy, pain filled minutes, hours maybe. Roy was not sure. He could feel his consciousness slip away from him and he was just about to let it when, to his surprise, he suddenly heard someone walk over to him. His eyesight had gotten far too blurry to be of any use, and all Roy could do was hope the newcomer was friendly.

He grunted roughly as the man picked him up and hauled him on his shoulder, only to do the same for Edward only moments later. Apparently Remy had been the one bleeding.

"I'm sorry." The man said. "I know it doesn't matter, but I am. He said he wouldn't kill anyone."

Roy didn't dignify the man with an answer, but he didn't really have the strength to glare either. _Sorry_ didn't really cut it.

Roy couldn't forgive him for trying to redeem himself by saving them after what Ed had been subjected to. And while he knew that Mr. Slime was carrying him and Ed away from the forsaken room that had served as their tormentors' playground, he couldn't stand the thought that the man's skin was once again in direct contact with Ed's.

He resented the man for putting them there. He wanted to do terrible things to him for harming Ed.

And still, there was no denying that the man who Roy had come hate and always would, the one who had touched Edward in such a foul, disgraceful way... That same man had saved both their lives, but Roy couldn't quite bring himself to be grateful.

They were laid on unkept lawn, and Roy managed to slowly turn his head so that Fullmetal and their former prison were in his field of vision. It was a place he recognized instantly; an old dairy factory on the outskirts of East City.

They were in a long since abandoned industrial part of town, far from everything and everyone.

Roy's gaze followed the man that had both doomed and saved them, as he headed back to the old factory. A fourth and final gunshot pierced the air, and he knew their tormentors would never haunt them again.

They had outlived Remy and Slime so far but, by the looks of it, neither alchemist had much time to left. Roy could only hope that Riza would find them before it would be too late.

Roy closed his eyes, and silence reigned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own FMA. Betaed by Lea.
> 
> Leave a comment, please!


	7. The Fallout

"What the hell took you so long, Havoc?" Riza snarled into the phone she was clutching in a white knuckled grip.

"I called you an hour ago and this is when you deem it appropriate to call back! I swear, if you were out drinking while the Colonel is… I _swear,_ " she threatened, voice cracking slightly as the First Lieutenant's gaze landed on the bloodied items laid out carefully on the passenger seat next to her.

She heard Havoc snort and let out a chuckle that was most probably meant to sound placating, but was nothing more than plain antagonizing in Riza's ears. He didn't know. He had no _idea_.

" _Listen, First Lieutenant, with all due respect and so on, we agreed on starting work at nine, eh? And why would you ever accuse me of such folly when the Colonel is…"_

An oppressive silence filled the line, and Riza's brow furrowed as she waited for her colleague to connect the dots. Her patience was running thin, quickly nearing nonexistence, and Riza was sure Jean could hear it with crystal clarity as well. The realization of which was something that served as an excellent forewarning, in her opinion.

" _Riza,"_ Havoc started earnestly. _"Everything's good with the Chief, right?_ Right _?"_

Hawkeye steeled herself and forced the lump in her throat to make way for words. It worked relatively well, considering the circumstances. At times, Riza was immeasurably grateful for her well polished professional decorum.

"The Colonel's vehicle was found abandoned near the military housings at oh one hundred hours tonight. We have yet to locate him, Havoc, and there's blood. I need you to inform the rest of the team and meet me in command, right now." She informed the blonde on the other end, casting another glance to the wreckage that was still visible from her rearview mirror.

" _What? And you're sure it's his car? Fucking hell, what has he gotten himself into?"_ Havoc muttered, more to himself than the First Lieutenant, obviously taken aback by the news.

"Oh, and Second Lieutenant?" Riza added. There was something else, something important she was all too eager to push away from her thoughts all the way to the furthest recesses of hell. Only, she knew that feigning ignorance was never a solution, especially not when planning a search and rescue. The First Lieutenant shuddered; Roy's team deserved and _needed_ full disclosure, and nothing less. "We found evidence that points to Ed being with Roy when he was taken."

" _Boss too? Shit…"_ Havoc cursed under his breath and Riza heard the distinct sound of a fist meeting wood as the Second Lieutenant struggled to gather his wits. " _Yeah, you can count on me."_

The call ended as quickly as it had begun, and Riza was left alone with her thoughts in the car she had loaned from one of the grunts. She threw the phone to the passenger seat in an rare outburst of anger and clutched onto the steering wheel with all her might. To her credit, Lieutenant Hawkeye's hands were perfectly steady as she turned on the ignition and left the Colonel's banged up vehicle in her dust. The morning sun was only just peeking over the horizon as Riza sped off to headquarters. On a regular day, she would be at work, sifting through papers and arranging the Colonel's daily schedule. It was only a little over eight in the morning and the day was young, but the whirlwind of events had made those hours seem like days long past.

The movements required for maneuvering the pedals and gears were routine and almost automatic to the First Lieutenant, and she drove through the desolate streets with little thought and practiced ease. She kept well within the speed limits, knowing that her team would not be in the office anytime soon. And Riza needed some time to think.

Assuming that Hughes had made it to the first train to East City, it would take him six hours to join the fray, in the very least. In that time the Lieutenant hoped to have already located Roy and Ed, but she had to admit that Hughes was their best bet in finding the two alchemists.

' _Why Roy? Why Ed? And who would want to take them?'_ She thought angrily and shook her head in attempt clear it of the unanswered questions and worst case scenarios she seemed to have an overabundance of. Needless worry would get her nowhere closer to Roy. So, with grit teeth and a set jaw, Riza discarded the futile -not to mention distracting- thoughts to the back of her mind. There was much to be done before she would be able to allow herself time for contemplation.

Because once she would bring the Colonel and his thirteen year old protege home, Riza vowed that she would get to the bottom of things. It was her duty to keep Roy Mustang out of harm's way, after all, and that included making sure his subordinates were alive as well and stayed that way. Not that Riza would have ever needed a reason to protect either of the two missing members of their small team.

When all was said and done, Riza would be damned if she'd ever let the two of them out of her hawk eye's reach again, not after this mess. Riza would incontestably chain Roy to his desk, if all else failed.

The blonde sighed. She would have to simply rely and lean on the knowledge that Roy was a highly trained soldier and strategist unlike any other. The Colonel, along with Ed, were _human weapons_ for goodness' sake, and thus for all intents and purposes not exactly pushovers. Roy would keep Ed safe, she was sure of it.

Yes, Riza forbid herself of indulging in needless worry. She only had six hours until Hughes arrived, and the First Lieutenant intended to make the very best of that little time. There was a lot to be done.

* * *

Roy had next to no medical training. He had learned the bare necessities of first aid during his military training and then the war, but anything beyond band aids and bandages was far beyond his skill set. It was a fact that irked the Flame Alchemist to no end now, as Roy stared at his shot leg. After they got out of this mess, because they _would_ , the Colonel would have to ask Havoc to show him a thing or two.

If Roy had thought that they had been bad off before, and that there was no way for things to get worse… Boy, had he been wrong. Murphy's Law seemed to be a bit of a running theme for that weekend.

 _Abso-fucking-lutely_ fantastic.

Overall Roy still felt much better after his brief, involuntary nap. So much so that he found he could breathe easier now that they were out in fresh air and, most importantly, they were _free_. They had surpassed their tormentors, they had outlasted Remy. And the knowledge of that filled Roy with vindictive glee.

The rest on the dry lawn had been reinvigorating to some extent, and much to the Colonel's surprise and relief, the gunshot wound in his calf appeared to be nonfatal. Painful, yes, but nothing that could kill him. Not when so much was at stake.

The raven still felt like absolute and utter shit, or perhaps something that had been repeatedly stomped over and then ran through a blender… And maybe sliced to a thousand little pieces afterwards? Yeah, sounded about right.

But Mustang was sure that his pain didn't even hold a candle to what the thirteen year old beside him must have been suffering through. He cast a wary glance to the adolescent prone on the ground next to him and cursed harshly. The teen had no time to waste, not after everything that had happened, and Roy already feared that it might be too late to revive the young sun. But Roy would not allow the brat to die on him now. He wasn't the flame alchemist for nothing; keeping one little, teeny tiny shorty's spark alive should be child's play.

Roy grit his teeth as he poked at the bullet wound in his calf. Searing hot flashes of pain ran up his spine, blinding the raven, but he ignored them systematically. Soon enough his index finger was coated in blood, and the State Alchemist let out a laugh that was borderline maniacal.

At the very least he had paint now. Nothing can be gained without blood, sweat and tears, Roy thought morbidly and chuckled to himself. Little had he known that a sober Friday night doing paperwork would be the least of his woes, as the time passed. It had been what, a little over twelve hours since he had woken up in that cursed room?

Little had he known...

The alchemic array for ignition danced on the forefront of his mind, and Roy's fingers worked on autopilot as he drew the circle on the ground, hoping that the soil would be dry enough to catch fire. He pressed his right hand on the array and found solace in the familiar crackle of flame alchemic reactions.

The spark was small, but just enough to set the small tree branches Roy had gathered aflame. The rain had ceased for the time being, but it was still windy out and the clouds overhead were heavy with raindrops yet to fall, carrying promises of another storm. Roy knew the warmth from the wilting fire and smoldering wood generated was only momentary.

The Colonel braced himself for the pain before grabbing the torrid branches and, with only a moment's hesitation, pressed the source of scorching heat to his bleeding calf. The fire met with the flame alchemist's flesh and sealed the bleeding wound instantly. Try as he might, Roy was unable to hold the agonized cry at bay and his eyes slammed wide open, unseeing and pupils blown wide.

He never noticed Ed shift and groan in his sleep, nor did he hear the weak voice speak his name questioningly before the pain robbed Roy Mustang of his consciousness once more.

* * *

Six hours later, Maes Hughes groaned audibly and stretched his aching limbs as he climbed out of the train with his belongings. Bless Gracia, that sweet angel, for always keeping a go-to bag ready for him. She truly knew him far too well, Hughes smiled to himself.

He swept the East City's train station with keen eyes, searching for a blonde head and a military uniform. Riza had promised to meet him at the station, so he had no doubt she would be there. Her or another member of Roy's team.

The trip from Central to East City had taken him over six hours, a small eternity when all things were considered. A lot could happen in six hours, after all, and the worry and apprehension growing in Hughes' mind had only gotten more fuel to the flames along the way; leaving Maes all but itching to get to the bottom of his best friend's disappearance.

He saw _a_ blonde, but not the one he was looking for. A tall man with short ochre hair and a wide, if a little somber grin greeted him at the exits. He was standing in front of a military vehicle, smoking a cigarette in a seemingly languid manner. To his misfortune, Maes wasn't head of investigation for nothing, and his trained eyes made note of the man's tense posture and the small twitch on his fingers as he blew out the toxic smoke.

"Hey, welcome to East City. Lieutenant Hawkeye sent me to be your personal chauffeur," the man quipped half halfheartedly, more out of habit than actual cheeriness, and offered Maes his hand. "Jean Havoc, Second Lieutenant."

"Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes." Maes nodded and shook Havoc's hand firmly. "Wish we could have met under better circumstances."

"Likewise. Man, this is one hell of a mess," Havoc sighed. "We're glad to have you on board, sir. Lieutenant Hawkeye is getting to be a bit antsy, and that is never good for anyone's health."

"I'm sure she is," Maes hummed as they got in the car. His fingers brushed against the left pocket of his pants, where he kept his wallet and multiple pictures of poor, sweet Elycia. Maes' brow furrowed marginally as he thought about his adorable little girl in pain and sick with fever in the hospital. At least Elycia still had her mother, he thought, but the knowledge of that brought him little comfort. He was her _father_ , and therefore he should be with her! What if something would happen? The guilt of denying her daughter both her parents when she needed them most made Maes sick to his stomach.

Alas, he couldn't simply ignore Riza's request with a good conscience. Not when Roy's well being, hell, survival even might depend on his involvement. The first forty eight hours of the search for a missing person were always crucial, and of that short time period almost twelve hours had passed already, if Lieutenant Hawkeye's guesses would prove to be correct. His best friend needed him far more than Elycia did right now.

So it was understandable that Maes Hughes was rather adamant in his hope that Roy would be found soon. He hadn't seen Roy in ages after all and, while reuniting under these gruesome circumstances was far from ideal, Roy was in trouble. Be it little or small, life threatening or not, his best friend was in trouble and possibly injured, so there really was no other option for Maes. He preferred to be reunited with a living and breathing Roy instead of a corpse, anyway.

The idea of something as horrid someone kidnapping his best friend was abhorrent to Hughes, something unspeakable and nightmarish. But no matter his preferences, his inner theorist jumped to conclusions the raven would rather have not thought of. There had been blood in the car, enough to startle even the hard boiled Lieutenant Hawkeye.

That could not bode well.

On the driver's seat next to Maes, Havoc was chattering about a football game, obviously trying to distract himself from their task just like Hughes was, but the spectacled man heard none of the Second Lieutenant's words. No, Maes needed some reassurance, some familiarity among all this uncertainty and dread. Besides, despite the feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach, Maes still clung on to the hope of finding his best friend at home, unharmed. Drunk as a skunk, perhaps, but alright.

In search of the much needed familiarity, Hughes pulled out the pictures of his family from his wallet, looked at them fondly for a moment and proceeded to none too gently shove them in Havoc's face as soon as the blonde stepped out of the car. The Second Lieutenant nodded amiably and mumbled some words of praise, and the two men walked the stairs to Colonel Mustang's office.

The small space was abuzz, comparable to a beehive, Maes thought. The small team was talking -arguing might be a better word- animatedly about something, and Maes could see sharp hazel eyes and a fierce frown. First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.

Havoc cleared his throat audibly and raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. "Whoa, I leave you for a second and you're at each other's throats," he teased, but Maes made note of the flash of hardly contained concern in his blue eyes.

Jean lowered his hands and took a tentative step toward his team. "What is it?"

Riza dismissed their fellow teammates, a young Sergeant with dark hair and glasses disappearing to the next room with a notebook in hand, with a taller man with calm, narrow eyes and white hair following close by. The First and Second Lieutenants exchanged a swift greeting and Riza offered Maes a salute that the Lieutenant Colonel merely brushed off.

Riza remained outwardly impeccable; her hair was in a neat bun and her uniform as spotless as they day it had been made. But there was a slight tremor and tenseness in her tone of voice that let both men know that today was not a day to play light of her, or of the situation. If there ever _was_ a good day to cross Riza Hawkeye, this was not it.

"Lieutenant?" Havoc prompted, his hands fidgeting nervously toward the pile of files and folders on the desk next to the second highest ranking officer in Mustang's team. "Any news?"

Riza reached for the documents wordlessly, grabbing the folder on the top of the pile and giving it to Maes, who briefly glanced through the file. There was a picture of a child with golden hair and bright amber eyes on the first page, a rebellious frown plastered on his face as he stared into the camera. "Fullmetal?" Maes questioned.

"Yes," Hawkeye paused and aimed a sharp glare at Havoc, who simply nodded stoically and left to join his teammates in the search efforts. Hawkeye sighed, and for a fleeting second Maes could see beyond the strong exterior and notice the shadows of dread and worry that pooled in her eyes. "Major Edward Elric, thirteen years of age, also known as the Fullmetal Alchemist. I trust you have heard of him?"

The raven only nodded; he wouldn't be much of an intelligence officer if word of the youngest state alchemist in history had failed to reach his ears. "Hero of the people, yes I've followed his story. Roy has even mentioned him to me a few times, I believe. Shrimp, was it?" Maes mused warmly, but Riza visibly tensed as he uttered the kid's unwanted nickname. The First Lieutenant took only a second to compose herself, and she exhaled deeply, her eyes darting from the folder to Maes and back. The Lieutenant Colonel merely quirked a curious eyebrow, but never lifted his eyes from the file as his gaze jumped from one line of text to another.

Riza held onto her composure impressively. "That's him. I didn't want to give you potentially false information, sir, so forgive me for taking this long to inform you. But you should know that we have reason to believe Major Elric was taken with the Colonel."

Maes hid his surprise well. He was a trained soldier, prepared for the worst at all times and any scenario. But a child? He merely looked up to Riza, startled and aghast, before his calculative and professional side took over. "What do we know?"

"Not much." Came the curt reply. "We sent patrolmen to his housings, but the room he was meant to occupy was unused. I have contacted his brother, Alphonse Elric, and he told me that Ed isn't with him either. Which…"

"Which leads you to believe that Edward and Roy were together in the car when they were taken," Hughes interrupted her, having already read the file and the documents within.

"Yes," Hawkeye admitted, her hands clenching into tight fists. Maes cast a small glance to the weapon on her waist with a crease in his brow. He could almost feel her trigger finger itching for some action. ' _Good.'_

The new information could prove perilous, potentially even game changing for the search. A Colonel's kidnapping was a serious matter on its own, but easy to categorize and unfortunately not without precedents. But taking a child -a Major no less- along for the ride seemed odd to Hughes.

He hummed contemplatively, took his glasses off his nose and cleaned them with meticulous vigor. All the while, Hawkeye waited patiently for his thoughts as the Lieutenant Colonel processed the information he had been given. Maes cast a final glance at the mountain of files in front of him, his gaze seemingly sharpening with resolve as he set the glasses back on his nose.

"Alright. Do we have any suspects?"

* * *

It was raining again. That was the first thing Roy noticed when he returned to consciousness; the wetness on his face. Instinctively, the Colonel tried to get up on a seated position, but the scorching pain radiating from his leg rendered such actions merely wishful thinking.

Droplets of water trickled in Roy's eyes, and the Colonel blinked blearily, not entirely sure why he should keep his eyes open in the first place. A wisp of matted gold and crimson danced in his peripheral vision, but it took Roy a far longer than it should have to connect the dots.

' _Ed.'_

Ed was staring into nothingness, panting harshly in short and shallow wheezes that promised nothing good for the tiny blonde. Somehow Roy didn't find Edward's size, or lack thereof, a laughing matter anymore. The teen gasped for air frantically and he was white as a sheet. Any breath could easily be his last, and that thought only fueled Roy's frustration. If only he could walk, he would _carry_ Ed to a fucking hospital.

The boy... ' _he is only a child what the hell were you thinking bringing him into this'..._ looked even smaller than usual, which was something Roy had previously thought impossible. Who looked _frail_ , like he could shatter if Roy as much as sneezed in his direction. The young teen was maimed almost beyond recognizing, bloodied and brutalized, and yet the most disturbing thing to Mustang were Ed's eyes.

His dull, glazed over and utterly _lifeless_ eyes. The light in them had suffered in Remy's hands, reduced to mere cinders of the flame that once resided in the amber orbs, but it was still there and still fighting. Roy clambered up from the ground and propped himself on his elbows, cursing under his breath. "Ed? Shrimp?"

Ed's eyes fluttered open and shut slowly before settling on Roy. "Colonel?" He croaked, and though the sound was a mere fraction of it's former boisterous glory, hearing it made Roy grin.

"A hell of a weekend we're having huh?" He joked, and Ed mustered a weary smile. The kid's skin was gleamed with cold sweat, and Roy didn't have to get any closer to know that he was hot to the touch. Having one's leg almost impaled would warrant a high fever.

"How are you feeling?" Roy asked worriedly.

"Been... " Edward's words were cut off by a hacking fit of coughs. "Hah, _shit_ , I've been better. Woke up to you burning yourself like a fucking idiot."

On any other day, Roy would have scoffed and retaliated with an insult of his own, but now all he felt was relief. Even after the hell he had been put through, Ed was still there and his spirit was intact, despite everything. They had a fighting chance now, and that was a luxury Roy had missed sorely.

"You're doing great Ed. Just stay awake alright? Hawkeye will be here soon," Roy soothed the trembling teen, hoping that Ed was too out of it to notice the uncertainty in Roy's voice.

"I'll try," Ed pledged. "Is… is he dead?"

Roy needed no names to know who Ed was talking about. Raindrops were still descending on the both of them and the cold autumn wind made the flame alchemist shiver. He had thought Ed to be far beyond understanding and awareness when they had learned the truth, but then again he supposed that all those gunshots could have woken even the dead. "Yes."

Ed's entire body first tensed and then fell completely lax as he worked to wrap his head around the knowledge that Remy, the sadistic asshole who was the only man responsible for their pain, was no longer with the living. That he was in hell, where he rightfully belonged.

"Good." Ed rasped, and the one word took so much effort for him to form that Roy could _feel_ the strain. The damage had been done, and it was irreversible, tantamount to a goddamn war on Ed's health; both mental and physical. Roy still couldn't bring himself to give a damn about his own well being. Ed coughed, and Mustang could see small trickles of blood in the corners of his mouth.

"'M tired, bastard."

"Don't you fucking dare!"Roy cursed and strenuously, not to mention awkwardly, dragged himself to the stubborn teen who had the audacity to even consider sleeping. _'Dying, Roy, he's dying and you're not helping.'_ The Colonel grunted from the pain as his legs jolted from the movement, but he refused to stop. Ed's eyes were half lidded and bleary as the blonde observed Roy's struggles, his mouth opening and closing in small gasps like he was a fish on dry land.

Ed was only a meter or so away, not a long distance by any measure, but it took Roy many long minutes to reach him. He had been right; Ed was practically radiating heat despite the rain and the cool weather. Hot to touch. Mustang blinked rainwater out of his eyes and grit his teeth."Ed, Edward, listen."

No answer. "Shrimp? Did you hear me?"

The thirteen year old showed no sign of understanding or hearing Roy. His eyelids fluttered shut and did not open again. "Ed!"

His chest was no longer moving. Roy shook the boy's shoulders, not caring about the pain he might cause to either of them. Nothing. ' _Nothing?'_

_"ED?!"_

* * *

There were no suspects, no leads or hints. It was as if Roy and Ed had vanished into thin air, virtually swiped away from existence overnight and leaving no trace behind of their actions or whereabouts. The team had been working for hours on end, and Hughes had already called everyone he could think of in hopes for a tidbit of information that could possibly lead them to Roy. But fate had flipped them off instead, and they were left with nothing to show for their wild goose chase.

Zero, zilch, zip, nada, _nothing_.

Eventually, Maes had been forced to deem it better for them to simply wait for a clue, and the team had acquiesced. They had resigned themselves to tedious fieldwork; checking each and every noise complaint and reported stolen vehicle in all of East City with borderline desperation. And so Hughes had once again found himself in the passenger seat of Havoc's car.

The blonde Second Lieutenant's brief remarks of the task at hand and the landscape excluded, the ride to their next destination was silent. This time, there was an air of determination and resolve in the small space that neither man wanted to break with mundanities like talk of sports or puppies. Heavy droplets of rain rattled on the car's roof, the sound only serving to exacerbate the sense of trepidation and dread both military men felt like a constant ache in their bones.

Hughes had shown Edward Elric and Roy Mustang's pictures to over a dozen people during the few hours he and Havoc had been interviewing the townspeople, but it had done them little good. He was left staring at Edward Elric's picture disbelievingly, as if hoping for the teen to tell him where he was held.

The Fullmetal Alchemist looked far younger than his years, and still at the same time his eyes and the darkness in them spoke of a boy who had seen things that would give grown men nightmares. Military life was bad enough as it was, and it didn't seem fair for a child like Ed to have to go through horrors like kidnapping. Maes could only hope they would find the kid unharmed.

Not only was the possibility of the adolescent being hurt, or worse, utterly horrible and completely unwanted, but Hughes also feared the effect Ed's pain could have on Roy. The fallout from seeing a child get hurt or killed near him could be catastrophic to his compassionate friend, irreparable even. Hughes shuddered at the very thought. Physical ailments were far easier to heal than their psychological counterparts.

"This place should be total dead-end too, just an old farm or a mill." Havoc remarked abruptly, startling Maes out of his stupor. The Lieutenant Colonel nodded. "I sure hope not, I don't think I can listen to another cat lady's lecture about Mr. Whiskers the fifth." Maes voiced with mock glee.

"I hear you." Havoc replied with an equally strained voice, his brow furrowing in concentration. It was a blatant contrast to the façade of nonchalance that reigned in the car, and under other circumstances, Hughes would have found it comical. Suddenly, the car's engine sputtered and coughed alarmingly, and Havoc brought the car to a stop.

"Fuck, we don't need this right now…" The tall blonde cursed in his frustration and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him vehemently. Maes sighed, placed the folder back in the hand locker and climbed out of the car as well. "Military vehicles are still of top notch quality I see." He quipped. "But you know what they say about hitting rock bottom, right?"

"Yeah, I think we're at rock bottom alright." Havoc sighed and fumbled for a cigarette to calm his nerves. IT took him several tries to light it in the cold and wet weather, but finally he succeeded, popped the hood and took a long huff of smoke. "The engine is completely fried. And we're kilometres away from the mill." He slammed the bonnet back shut forcefully. " _Fuck!_ "

They were in the middle of nowhere, with only a few abandoned factories adding some character to their surroundings. Maes rubbed the back of his head. "Nothing we can do about it now, Second Lieutenant. Let's keep walking in the mill's direction, we're bound to find something."

They trekked in silence for what felt like hours; both equally dejected and disgruntled by the unfortunate turn of events. Their missing friends could be hurt and in need of their help, and now the fucking car wouldn't start?! It was as if they were fighting a losing fight against Lady Fortuna herself.

"Did you hear that?" Havoc asked out of the blue, stopping in his tracks and shadowing his eyes with his hand to shield them from the rain.

Maes strained his ears, eyes trained in the direction the blonde was staring at. It was one of the old factories, plain and simple, but there was nothing about it that would have attracted Maes' attention without Havoc's concern.

The younger man gasped audibly and started running to whatever he had seen, leaving Hughes and his confusion behind. The factory was at least two hundred meters away, and Maes had no hope of seeing that far with the rain fogging his glasses, so he followed the Second Lieutenant without questions.

They got closer, and Maes could hear a desperate voice crying for help. A familiar voice. Hughes stopped to take his glasses off his nose and cleaned them hastily on the sleeve of his military uniform. Could it be? Was that... Roy? Was that blood?

His best friend was hunched over someone small, bloodied and pale as snow. Someone unmoving and seemingly lifeless.

Maes had stared at the Fullmetal Alchemist's picture for enough many times to recognize the matted blonde hair instantly. But what worried him the most was the fact that Roy was obviously sobbing and cursing all the same, his shoulders trembling with overexertion as he shook the teen frantically with wild abandon. Maes picked up the pace and pushed his body to get to them faster.

Roy couldn't think straight; the pain of his own injuries and the panic clouding his mind in a frenzied were tears on his cheeks, but he paid them no mind, Ed was not breathing. "Please, shrimp, snap out of it," he pleaded, but the blonde was beyond words. "No, no no no no no no…"

And then there was a calloused pair of hands on his shoulder and another pulling Ed from the Colonel's hold. He didn't want to let go, and a strangled cry escaped him as the boy left his arms. His body began to shudder and shiver. "Help him… Please." Roy rasped, but his voice was growing small and weak. "He's not… I can't…"

"You got it Chief."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even own the computer I'm typing this with, so do you really think I own FMA? Betaread by LeafyxThiefy.


	8. The Trigger

The human brain consumes over twenty percent of all the oxygen that is inhaled, the most of which goes toward maintaining and upholding the brain's electrical activity; keeping the system operational and the person alive. Therefore, it's only logical that even a measly four minutes of hypoxia can result in cascades of both apoptosis and necrosis. Cell death, in layman's terms.

This, accompanied by possible permanent damage to the tissue can easily lead to impairments in cognitive skills, among other things, and damage to the brain becomes virtually inevitable after no more than ten minutes of low oxygen levels. Simply put, the human brain cannot function without a steady flow of oxygen.

And Ed wasn't breathing.

That had been the one singular thought on Havoc's mind from the moment he had first laid eyes on the Fullmetal Alchemist's unmoving form. Or more accurately the teen's inert, still chest that was unavoidably doomed to never rise again should Jean fail to revive Ed now. The Second Lieutenant panted with exertion, ochre bangs sticking to his forehead with a mix of rainwater and sweat as he struggled to resuscitate the teen.

The perpetual and seemingly fruitless repetition of motions was not only taxing, but also thoroughly frustrating to Havoc, and did nothing but make the manoeuvres a lot more strenuous than they should have been. Jean was physically fit, and his stamina was exemplary -as could be expected of a soldier- and yet the time and effort he was spending on the CPR was quickly sapping his strength. But, regardless of his own growing exhaustion the Second Lieutenant kept pumping the blonde's chest in rapid intervals, determined to get Ed back to them.

How long had it been since the kid had last drawn breath? What had Ed been thinking? Had he been scared? And why, oh _why_ wouldn't he just breathe _for fuck's sake!_

Havoc wouldn't give up, he _wouldn't_ lose Ed when they had just found him and Roy. In fact, Jean forbid himself all thoughts of death, a coffin and a terrible loss. He would never need to think about them, because he absolutely refused to let Edward Elric die on him.

But Ed had always been far too stubborn for his own good and, despite Jean's best efforts, the blond and bloodied boy remained limp and lifeless.

"C'mon Boss, breathe for me," Havoc all but growled and pinched the boy's nose as he blew air in Ed's mouth. The resulting small rise of the teen's chest seemed mocking in its bitter sweetness, nothing more than a false sign of life.

Jean only cast quick glances to Roy in between compressions, who was leaning heavily on Hughes only a few metres away from the action. The future Führer stared at his two subordinates with keen eyes that followed Jean's every movement, but Havoc wasn't bothered by Mustang's riveted gaze in the slightest, for he had no time to complain. What did unnerve Jean about his supervising officer, however, was Roy's shell shocked expression that was marred by pure horror.

The utterly lost and unsure look seemed incredibly out of place on the Flame Alchemist's features, but that didn't even hold a candle to the feeling of _wrongness_ that came with witnessing those once fierce eyes glistening with unshed tears. In the end, looking at Roy only served to cement the gravity of the situation to Havoc, giving him the strength and resolve to start the cycle again each and every time.

No matter how futile it was starting to feel.

The Colonel was clutching onto Hughes' arm with desperation, almost as if he hoped to tether himself to reality with that single action. And, as much as Roy hated to admit it, he _did_ need reassurance that Maes and Jean were real and tangible people instead of merely a pair of taunting hallucinations. Hughes embraced Roy with one hand, the other one occupied with a cell phone the Lieutenant Colonel was speaking into with heated, urgent words.

Havoc heard none of them.

Thirty pumps and a breath. Thirty pumps and a breath. _'Twenty-four, twenty-five… Don't give up now Ed!'_

But Roy's distress was still by far a better sight than the alternative, Havoc thought to himself. Hell, looking at Roy was like watching a cheery cartoon in comparison to Ed, bruised, and broken with deathly pale skin that already felt so, _so_ cold. It was no wonder really, since the rain added a sharp bite to the already brisk wind, but the nigh exsanguinated boy was numb to the chill.

And the temperature had nothing to do with why Havoc was shivering, either.

How long had it been? Had it been too long already? The Second Lieutenant had lost track of time a while ago, but the relatively short while he had spent resuscitating Ed seemed like hours rather than minutes to him.

What if they were too late, and the Boss would never wake up, or would suffer serious brain damage? Havoc knew how much the Fullmetal Alchemist valued his quick wit, and losing that… It would destroy Ed, and Jean suspected that the teen would consider that fate worse than death itself.

Not that the outcome mattered right then and there, not when Ed's life was hanging by a thread. Havoc consciously ignored the small voice in the back of his head that was rather incessant on reminding him of what the kid's unresponsiveness could possibly entail; that the stillness of Ed's frail form could mean something frightening and unthinkable.

Havoc completed what must have been the fifth round of life saving measures and cursed harshly. Ed should have responded by now, damnit!

"Do you think you can just _die_!?" He yelled out in a fit of frustration and slammed his fist in the boy's ribcage forcefully, without a word of forewarning. He heard Roy shout out in protest, something about not harming Ed any more than he already was, but Havoc silenced his two spectators with a glare. He was determined to rouse Ed, screw the consequences.

"Who the fuck gave you permission?" he growled, once more bringing his tightly clenched fist down on where he knew Ed's unbeating heart rested.

"I WON'T." _Punch_.

"LET YOU." _Another punch. Havoc was pretty sure he felt a rib crack._

"GIVE UP." _Punch_.

"NOW!" Jean yelled desperately, absolutely terrified of what he would be forced to admit soon, should Ed still remain passive to his last ditch efforts to save him. With an animalistic grunt, the Second Lieutenant brought his fist down on the golden boy's chest one last time, putting all his remaining strength into the blow.

Thankfully, he was rewarded with the most miraculous sound Havoc had ever heard in his life; a small and shallow intake of breath that was followed by weak, hacking coughs. Signs of life.

Havoc gasped for air as well and lowered himself over Ed silently until his cheekbone was only centimetres away from the teen's mouth. The older blonde held his breath, frozen in anxious anticipation as he waited for something, _anything,_ hoping the best and fearing the worst.

_There!_ A warm breath ghosted on Jean's cheek, and the Second Lieutenant could feel actual tears of relief burning in his eyes. _'Thank God.'_

"Did he..?" Roy rasped out, voice heavy and raw with emotion.

"He's breathing," Havoc confirmed, unwilling to look away from Ed now that he was finally back with them, amongst the living where he belonged.

Jean heard Hughes thank every deity he knew and Roy whisper what could have been a prayer or maybe a curse, but he didn't turn to face them. In any case, Havoc could barely hear the words. The blood rushing in his ears, combined with the sounds of the steady pitter-patter of rain that still fell on the four men muffled all sounds effectively.

Havoc fell back on his behind, the adrenaline from the demanding physical activity and the intense emotional turmoil draining him of all his remaining energy and capability for rational thought. The blonde stared at Ed's chest -alive and movingand _oh god what if he had died-_ and was completely captivated by the weak rise and fall of the boy's ribcage as it heaved with tiny, shallow breaths. It was a true and unfalsifiable sign of life, one that they had come too damn close to losing forever.

The whole situation was tragicomic to Havoc, really. Should they have taken a different car or stopped for dinner they would have needed a body bag instead of an ambulance, inevitably and unavoidably. If they had gone to the mill like they had originally intended to do, the unconscious -but _breathing and living_ \- alchemist would have surely perished while they listened to another pointless tale of cats and… who the hell even cares?

The fact remained, however, that Ed would have slept away on this forsaken lawn, only metres away from the factory where he had been held and undoubtedly tortured in. Someone would have had to break the news of Fullmetal's passing to his little brother. And Jean was eternally grateful that the news they would need to deliver would be slightly happier, that Ed wasn't dead yet.

"You did it," Roy whispered disbelievingly, as if to test the words on his tongue. The Colonel had been convinced that he had failed in keeping Ed's flame alive, certain that he had lost the insufferable brat to a lunatic's whim. Unbridled relief washed over the raven like a tidal wave, and he finally allowed his body the rest that it so desperately needed. Roy's knees buckled from underneath him and the raven's head spun violently, blurring his vision even further. Hughes caught him when he fell.

Jean only nodded in response to his superior officer's words, still all but paralyzed in the grasps of fear and fatigue. He fumbled for a cigarette with trembling fingers, uncaring of the rain and the cold wind that rendered lighting the cancer stick impossible.

What exactly had been done to their friends in there? Havoc wasn't sure he wanted to know the answers to that, but he knew he would have to if he wished to punish the men responsible. It was crazy how attached he had gotten to the blonde alchemist in the short time they had worked together, but Havoc wouldn't have it any other way. And he sure as hell wouldn't let the kid wither away under his eyes, either.

At the moment, though, there was a far more important question left to be answered. A cold chill ran up Jean's spine, and the Second Lieutenant bit into his cigarette, clenching his jaw in anger. Where were those fuckers responsible for this carnage? Because they had a scheduled meeting with Jean's rifle, one of _deadly_ importance _._

The simple feeling of holding the cigarette in between his teeth was soothing, something habitual and familiar. Lit or not, having the objectification of his addiction in between his teeth helped to somewhat clear Havoc's thoughts of the intense emotions that clouded his judgement.

And, as the initial adrenaline rush began to diminish, the urgency of the situation and the still lingering threat to Ed's life hit him again like a ton of bricks.

A strangled grunt left Jean as he scrambled back to Ed's side and checked the teen's jugular, heart bursting with joy when he found a thready pulse -fluttering rapidly like a hummingbird's, but still there all the same. The boy was so obviously feverish and suffering that it hurt to watch, but the worst of it all was that there was nothing else Jean _could_ do, really, but watch as the young Major fought for survival.

Hughes cleared his throat and touched the Second Lieutenant's shoulder lightly, alerting the blonde of his approach. "Do you think we could move them inside?" he asked quietly, as if a louder voice might somehow shatter Ed. "It's getting dark soon, and this storm isn't doing them any favours."

Havoc nodded impassively, eyes trained on Ed's chest and counting the teen's inhales and exhales in a borderline fanatic fashion.

"What the fuck happened here, Hughes?" The blonde grunted, all honorifics forgotten. "The Boss looks like he's been interrogated for days on end, and these assholes sure weren't using kid gloves with him, either."

Maes hung his head and let out a deep, despondent sigh. "No, they sure didn't. Let's take him inside and then come back for Roy, alright?"

"Alright."

Havoc looked over his shoulder, eyes meeting with his supervisor's bleary and glazed over ones. There was no way of knowing if Roy could even hear their conversation, seeing that the flame alchemist seemed to have fallen into a borderline catatonic state, resting off his own considerable injuries. Havoc frowned; the past twenty four hours had most definitely taken their toll on Mustang as well as Ed. He made a mental note to check the Colonel's injuries as soon as Ed would be out of immediate danger, or at least after they were all indoors.

Even still, it would be relatively harmless to leave Roy alone for the short time it would take for the two of them to take Ed inside, away from the rain's reach. And, as much as it vexed Havoc and Hughes, and it would be a severe strategic miscalculation to go into the place Roy and Ed had been held without backup. They had no way of knowing what might be waiting for them behind those doors, and with his hands full of unconscious adolescent, Hughes would not be able to fend off an attack by himself.

With that in mind Havoc offered a curt nod, a call for action he was more used to receiving than giving, and got up on unsteady legs while Hughes gathered Ed in his arms with great care. The Second Lieutenant drew his weapon, not exactly in the mood to fuck around. In all honesty, he was highly tempted to take a page from Lieutenant Hawkeye's book; shoot first and ask questions later.

The walk to the remote and abandoned factory was short, no more than twenty metres, but Jean was unsure of whether he wanted for the trek to be over sooner rather than later. On one hand, they needed shelter from the throes of the Autumn weather, and there really was no other alternative. But, then again a part of Havoc wanted to simply tuck tail and never step foot in that hellhole, never wanting to learn a thing of the horrors that had without a doubt taken place inside those walls.

Indifferent to Havoc's internal turmoil, the rain was still pouring on the small frame in Hughes' arms, mercilessly washing the blond of the blood and gore and god knows what else that covered him. Seeing their youngest team member in such a state only steeled Havoc's resolve, all but making the decision for him.

Taking the two former captives back to their prison seemed like an unnecessary cruelty, but at the same time it was very much a necessary evil.

Havoc eyed the Lieutenant Colonel's valuable cargo warily. The gruesome mess that was the teen's left leg made Jean almost heave, the metallic pole sticking out of the marred flesh serving as a constant reminder of the acts of cruelty the kid had been subjected to. Ed's wheezing and shallow breaths sounded desperate to Havoc, but he took solace in the knowledge that at least the boy was breathing, when they could have just as well lost him for good.

"How can he weigh so…" Hughes started with a small pant. "...so much?"

"It's the automail," Havoc answered, his words tense and dry of emotion. "The Boss has a synthetic arm and a leg."

"Of course he does," Hughes sighed and let out a humourless laugh, shaking his head. "Poor boy..."

"Yeah, he's had it rough. But the Boss isn't a quitter," Havoc said dismissively, more focused on their surroundings than the conversation. "Hey, how long did the Lieutenant say it would take them to get here? We really don't have time to waste."

Hughes had to agree. "Twenty minutes, give or take. I told them to step on it."

Havoc almost mustered a small smile at how he knew Riza would interpret those words. He could only hope that her passengers had eaten a light dinner, for it was bound to be a bumpy ride and the First Lieutenant didn't take kindly to someone vomiting in her car. But the occasion was far from joyous, and Havoc's smile slipped away before it was ever fully formed.

The front door to the factory was slightly agape, and there was a steady trickle of blood indoors that the rain had already washed away from the lawn outside. Havoc shared a determined look with Hughes before taking the safety off his weapon and leading the way further into the plant, following the crimson path. Better safe than sorry.

"Fuck…" Havoc cursed under his breath and stopped abruptly, much to Hughes' surprise.

"What is it?" Hughes asked, eyes methodically darting from corner to corner, calm but very much on guard.

"He got off too easy, that's what," Havoc replied tersely and stepped over the cooling corpse of a rotund man with a turtleneck and a bullet hole in his temple. "Blew his fucking brains out."

Hughes didn't have to say anything to voice his anger and merely grunted in agreement, adjusting Ed gently in his arms. Damn rat better rot in hell for all eternity and then some, in his opinion.

Havoc led them past the dead man and into a narrow corridor, keeping to the trail of blood Hughes strongly suspected had originated from his best friend's shot leg. Although, it could have just as well come from any of the numerous injuries on the gilded teen's lithe body.

The blood trail led the two men to a large door that must have connected to the main chambers, if the old guidance signs were any indication. Only problem was that the door itself was shut tightly, and Havoc looked to Maes questioningly. Should they enter the room by force, or go back for Roy already?

Neither man had any specific desire to breach the main room when they were already inside and Ed was out of the storms' reach. Not to mention that they still had an injured Colonel to think about who was waiting for their return outside.

It didn't sit well with Hughes to leave his best friend out in the open and alone in the cold for any longer than was necessary, but Ed was definitely in need of constant supervision. The sight of the child's unmoving chest and practically translucent skin was etched onto the Lieutenant Colonel's retinas forever, and Hughes was certain that no amount of smiles and laughs with his own family would ever wash away the dread and absolute horror he had felt moments ago when Havoc had been fighting to revive the kid.

The Fullmetal Alchemist was so inescapably young, and looked so innocent in his sleep that the Lieutenant Colonel couldn't help but think of his own ill child back in Central. As soon as he made that connection, however, the sight of Ed's bloodied form became infinitely more painful to take in. What if anything like this nightmare would happen to his sweet princess, one day?

Maes shook his head to clear it of the abhorrent thoughts. There was no punishment severe enough for the soulless bastards responsible for this heinous savagery.

It didn't take an investigations specialist to put two and two together and see that the Second Lieutenant next to him was struggling with similar fears. Not if the tormented expression on Havoc's face was anything to go by.

"Should we leave him here and go get Roy?" Hughes mused contemplatively, more to himself than anyone else.

"I think so, I can't carry the Chief inside by myself without hurting him further," Havoc said, glancing at Ed resignedly. "And the Boss is stronger than you'd think, he can tough it out for a while."

The scary part of that statement was that they could do nothing but pray that Ed would be able to back up Jean's words. It was all up to the adolescent's willpower and resilience, and hell if that didn't infuriate both military men beyond belief.

Hughes was forced to reluctantly lower the thirteen year old Major down on the cold floor, propping him gently against the wall. Ed didn't as much as flinch. In fact, the kid was yet to show any signs of ever returning to consciousness, and that greatly unnerved Maes.

"Back to Roy it is then," he said, dusting himself off. "I think we should figure out–"

_SLAM_

The sudden sound cut off his words, making Hughes and Havoc reflexively take a better hold of their respective weapons, eyes darting from corner to corner. The silence that followed the loud noise was thick enough to be cut with a knife, leaving the men straining their hearing, both officers intent on finding out who and what exactly had caught their attention.

As one would expect, the alien sound did not originate from the unconscious boy lying next to Havoc and Hughes, nor did it come from outside where they had left Roy.

No, they could hear speech. The voice clearly belonged to someone older, and the lieu of curses that came after the grunt was definitely spoken in a foreign tongue. _Isbalan_. Brown and blue eyes were quick to fixate on the large metal door that still remained shut in front of the pair, muscles tensing in preparation for an attack that never came.

"Did you hear that?" Havoc asked, and the consternation welling in his chest made the words sound strained and far heavier than he had originally intended them to.

Maes merely nodded, just as anxious to find the source of the disturbance.

The dwindling sense of security that had slowly begun to envelop them after Ed's heart had started up again flickered away, making the air surrounding them feel much colder than it really was, and consequently causing Ed's shallow breaths to sound more like cries for help.

In the end there was only one acceptable course of action, once both men acknowledged that they could not afford to leave Edward alone and defenseless while someone still lingered nearby. On tenterhooks, the Second Lieutenant and the Lieutenant Colonel pried the door open, using Havoc's rifle as their makeshift crowbar.

They could only see the first few square metres of what must have been a very large room, but what little they could see was still enough to make Hughes' breath hitch and for Havoc to stumble with his steps. There was a small ocean of blood in their feet, sticking to their shoes and filling the air with its foul stench, but their shock was not in any way related to the copious amounts of clotting crimson.

No, there was something far more attention grabbing just barely visible in the corner of the their field of vision, where the small area was illuminated by the corridor's gleamy light. With some further inspection, Havoc and Hughes recognized the silhouette almost simultaneously; a pale hand, coated with specks of red, was twitching sporadically in the pool of blood.

They could hear someone -someone alive- take long, shuddering breaths in the room, and Hughes searched for a light switch in the dark with tentative hands. He found one near the doorway soon enough, and bright fluorescent lights flickered to life.

For the longest time, all they saw was red, figuratively and literally speaking, and all Havoc and Hughes knew was that that red had once circulated within their friends' veins.

In reality, the amount of blood on the surfaces was not that great in volume, considering how much there could have been, but the little they could see was so overwhelming to the two men that they both forgot how to form comprehensible words.

The hand connected to a person, a half conscious man with white hair and a bullet hole in his thigh that was most likely the sole source for the small puddle of blood around him. He was thin, and bore some resemblance to the other unknown male they had found dead in the hallway. Interestingly enough, though, there was a gun near the bloodied man.

It really wasn't all that hard for Hughes and Havoc to connect the dots from there.

"He's bleeding," Hughes breathed out as he slowly did his best to swallow the newly formed lump in his throat. "We should, oh _god…"_ he trailed off, unsure of what the right course of action was. If there even was a right choice to be made.

Without aid, the man would surely die. But, if they were to stay indoors and treat the suspicious man there was no telling what would come of Roy, who was still unconscious on the front lawn and vulnerable to the wind and rain. And Hughes couldn't stomach the thought of leaving Ed within a kilometre radius of the man who had most likely also brutalized the small blonde only hours ago. Not if there was any other way.

That, however, left them with a dilemma. What to do with the man while they went back for Roy? Should they give him the medical help he so obviously needed, or leave the monster to his fate?

Questions without right answers swarmed in Hughes' head, and he shut his eyes from the room and the evidence of its horrors.

"We should leave him for the rats, if you ask me." Havoc finished the raven's sentence, surprising even himself with the amount of ill will behind the words. His hands clenched in tight fists around his rifle and Havoc frowned. In all his life, Jean never would have so much as dreamt of shooting a man when he was already beaten, but as it was the need for vengeance and retribution was making that a difficult principle to live by. It wasn't exactly _common_ for Havoc to cross paths with someone who had tortured his friends.

"He doesn't deserve to live, Hughes, not after all he's done," the Second Lieutenant grunted.

Hughes shook his head in response, coming to a decision. He couldn't leave the man to die, no matter who he was. Hughes would have gladly killed the degenerate himself without blinking an eye, because no one was allowed to harm his _family_ , but killing the man would mean Roy and Ed would never get answers.

And they would never get proper justice. Death was far too merciful an end for the man who was slowly wilting away in their feet.

"No, we need him alive. Tie him down to something, we should go get Roy first," Hughes said, distancing himself from the emotional ties he already held for Ed. He kept telling himself that he kid was dead to the world, and would never know the culprit was in the room with him, but that wasn't enough to justify the call he had made. Hughes could only pledge that he would do his best to make it up to Ed, if he would ever wake up to begin with.

"And why exactly should I lift a damn finger to help this, this…" Havoc spat out, lacking a word horrid enough to describe the man he viewed as worse than scum of the earth. "Is all that blood even yours?" He snarled at the white haired man, who only stared at them with pained, half lidded eyes. The blonde's finger twitched dangerously close to trigger of his rifle, and in all honesty it took all of Havoc's restraint not to bash the madman's face in with the blunt of his weapon.

Making note of his partner's distress, Hughes placed a placating palm on the Second Lieutenant's shoulder, brows knitted together in disdain. "I highly doubt it is, but his crimes and your blood lust don't give him the right for an easy way out."

"I…" the man croaked out abruptly, startling the two rescuers. "I killed them?"

"Killed _who_ , exactly?" Havoc barked, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and clicking one end in the man's wrist none too kindly. "If you're talking about our friends, I'm happy to tell you that they're still alive."

The other end of the cuffs was tightened around a nearby pipe, and Havoc pushed himself off the ground. He stared at his hands that were already coated in Ed's blood from his earlier life saving ministrations. Now, though, there was a new layer of blood and grime mixing with the Major's, blood of both the monster and its victim blending into a macabre mess of red.

The man looked at Havoc with unfocused eyes, as if he hadn't grasped one word of the Second Lieutenant's sentence. "No. I killed _them,_ " he whimpered. "I remember."

"Shut up," Hughes snapped, tearing his gaze from the unnamed man's tormented expression that was filled with such unadulterated pain and agony that went far beyond what any physical ailment could cause. Something about that face and those eyes rang a distant bell in the back of Hughes' mind, but he discarded the inkling as unimportant. Time truly was of the essence.

"Don't listen to him, Second Lieutenant. We don't have the time, " Maes ordered instead.

Havoc muttered a begrudging _yessir_ and followed the Lieutenant Colonel back to Ed and to Roy. And if his leg _slipped_ in the blood and the man got a broken nose for it… Well, that was purely a coincidence.

Ed was still where they had left him, flaccid and white as a damn sheet. Both Havoc and Hughes' eyes swept over the boy, teeth clenching together in apprehension. Would he wake up? Had they reached him in time? Neither had the right answers or a simple solution to the convoluted cobweb of problems that had been their past twenty four hours, and they both hated the fact that all they could do was wait and see.

And while Havoc detested every step he had to take away from Ed, he couldn't help but let out a breath of relief as soon as they reached the exit.

The sky was clearing when they stepped out from the two alchemists' personal hell, and Havoc took a long gulp of fresh air that still smelled like rain. The sun was beginning to peek from the ambiguous myriad of clouds that still littered the sky, and the setting sun's soft glow coloured the wet lawn in varying shades of violet and and red. Best of all, they could see Colonel Roy Mustang waiting for them on the grass, unconscious but alive and in a state of deep, dreamless slumber.

While it all seemed like far too peaceful to be true, considering what they had all gone through and with no guarantees of Ed's survival, Hughes and Havoc allowed themselves a moment of serenity.

As if on cue, Hughes heard sirens approaching seconds later, and turned his head to watch the telltale red and blue lights blinking at them from the horizon like friendly stars rushing to their side. A single tear of sheer relief fell from Havoc's eye, but the blonde didn't wipe it away.

_They were going home._

* * *

**Omake (Takes place right after Al's part in chapter five.)**

' _Missing_?'

Al put the phone back on the receiver in a daze, staring off into the distance with unseeing eyes. His shoulders slumped and the large armour shook subtly as the twelve year old boy trapped inside it tried to wrap his head around Lieutenant Hawkeye's words.

Brother would not like Al worrying about him, so he shouldn't. Ed was strong and smart and a survivor above all else, and Al knew that Ed would feel guilty for making him worry, so he shouldn't worry. But he did.

Ed was _missing_. His big brother, his only family and his rock was _missing_ , and Al was left feeling impossibly alone and lost. The bodiless boy held onto the phone table's edge with a strong but unsteady grip, mind abuzz with speculation and fear.

"Al? Who was it?" He heard Winry ask from her seat in the kitchen, her voice light and carefree and how could she be so happy when Ed was _missing!_ Al shook his head to clear his thoughts, the rattling of the armour accompanied with his silence alerting Winry to his plight. It didn't take long until the blonde head of hair was only centimetres from Al's face, and her hands squeezed the younger's sensationless shoulders. "Al, is something wrong? Tell me!"

"It was Lieutenant Hawkeye," Al said monotonously, and the metallic ring of the armour made his voice seem deeper, older and far more confident than he truly felt.

The old suit of metal he was blood bound to was a constant reminder of his brother's resolve and sacrifice, but never before had it felt more like the armour it was. That moment of despair and dread -baseless or not- seemed to thicken the metal, as if Ed himself had transmuted it into a stronger shell.

Even without his brother there, Ed was still protecting Al with those plates of steel.

What had he done? His brother was an impatient and passionate creature, and Al didn't find it too implausible to believe that this was the doing of some old acquaintance Ed had antagonized in the past. Or perhaps Ed was simply hauled up in a library somewhere with an enormous pile of alchemy books and no track of time. Or maybe…

Al's train of thought derailed and for the life of him, he couldn't seem to find the brakes anymore.

Winry's wrench made contact with Al's helmet out of the blue, snapping him out of his reverie. "Alphonse Elric, you tell me what is going on this second or I swear I will smack you silly!" She threatened, bright blue eyes unyielding and filled with the strength Al so sorely needed.

"She called to tell us that… that brother is missing, Winry!" Al cried out and wrapped his much larger arms around the blonde, who yelped a bit in surprise but returned the embrace the best she could nonetheless.

Al's armour was as cold against Winry's skin as the boy inhabiting it felt; the worry over Ed's fate chilling him to the bone. Or it would have, had Al still been in possession of his own flesh and blood. "They can't find Ed, and the Lieutenant sounded so worried, I…. I have to go there, Winry, I need to help."

"What?" Winry stammered, eyes widening in surprise and shock before she managed to reign in her emotions. "Listen, Ed is perfectly capable of taking care of himself, you worry too much Al." The blonde said thoughtfully, her brows knitting together as she mulled over Al's words.

"Besides, that moron has probably just forgotten to check in or something, you know how tired he was when he left here. Odds are he's just sleeping." Winry assured Al, but the softly spoken words brought the boy little to no comfort.

She was right, of course she was, and Al knew that. But repetition did nothing to nullify his fears, and the boy could only nod numbly. There shouldn't be a reason for him to feel this strongly about Ed's supposed disappearance, not when they had only one word to go by. _Missing_.

And even still, the twelve year old alchemist had a feeling that something truly ghastly had happened to his brother.

Despite Winry's best efforts, Al's anxiety, contagious as the common cold, spread to the blonde girl with equal efficiency, slowly transforming her content ease into something akin to panic. But not quite, because there was no way in hell Winry Rockbell would allow herself to wallow in panic when sweet and innocent Al, who was just as much her younger sibling as he was Ed's, was already worried sick.

So Winry cracked a confident smile and looked straight into Al's eyes, cheerful as ever. "You're just making mountains out of molehills, Al. I'm sure he is just fine."

"Maybe. But what if…" Al started, mind stuck on a constant loop; a broken record of terror and trepidation.

"Shush you," Winry interjected. "We don't know what has happened, so stop being such a worrywart."

"Yeah, you're right Winry, thanks," Al said, hoping that his voice conveyed even a small fraction of the appreciation he felt for having the mechanic with him. He would have offered her a grateful smile if the lifeless metal of his helmet would have been capable of showcasing it. "He's okay, he _must_ be."

Al sighed. "I guess you should go to bed then, there's a lot to do tomorrow, we need to help save the crops and..."

"You're kidding, right?" Winry interrupted Al's rambling with genuine surprise in her voice. "We're leaving for East City the first thing in the morning. Oh, Ed is going to get his ass handed to him if I find out he's busted my automail, mark my words..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably update again in a month or so, I'm taking part in a writing challenge for One Piece. Until then ~  
> Betaed by Leafy. I don't own shit.


End file.
